Match point game
by hydras15
Summary: It was just supposed to be prison sex, that was the rule, when they escaped they weren’t going to see each other and there were no expectations. Only problem was that Riddick doesn’t listen to laws… so what are a few broken rules?
1. Chapter 1 Prison boat blues

**Match, point, game! **

**It was just supposed to be prison sex, that was the rule, when they escaped they weren't going to see each other and there were no expectations. Only problem was that Riddick doesn't listen to laws… so what are a few broken rules?**

**Chapter one:**

**Prison boat blues**

The arid and dry mountains of Tramius five were no place to be during the second summer of the arid planet. This was especially true if you didn't have the proper gear with which to traverse the area and even more so if you were not acclimated to such a harsh environment. There had been many men and women that had died not heeding this warning from villagers and even those that lived in the larger cities alike. Their arrogance had cost them their lives and were thus food for the animals that lived ruthlessly on all other life within the high wastelands of the western sand plains and craggy, dried up spine of the world. In a way, it was what they deserved for thinking that they could handle something when others that lived in that area knew better.

Cockiness should be a sin. And it was for this sin that the form of someone, something, was stalking a large, thin haired long eared tan and red wolf through the mountains. They had heard that such beasts pelts would keep one warm in the coldest of environments, and considering as soon as they left this baking ball of hell that they were going to a frozen ball of hell, a good pelt would help nicely. A sharp, glittering set of daggers were held on either side of the hips of the stalking figure, following the wolf wherever it went, while in its leather shielded hand held the hilt of a strong but deathly quiet gun that they had received as a 'gift' from their last target. Slinking over a rock the figure nearly got their long and tattered jacket caught on the sharp, sand blasted surface, causing yet another hole in the already worn surface.

"Shit," they whispered and tugged the jacket until it was free and glanced around for the wolf yet again. They wore a hat with which to shield them from the blinding triple suns as well as a strip of clothe over their face, only their brown eyes visible. The rest of their clothing consisted of a dark green tank top with a few scarves laid over the neck in tattered protection from the sun, a pair of dark brown cargo pants, combat boots that had seen better days, and a belt that had more gadgets then they could count. They didn't know what half of them did but beggars and pickers off of bodies couldn't choosers.

It wasn't for necessity really, that they were out here, but merely for the fact that they had been bored lifeless in their hotel. You could buy these wolf pelts in the city they were docked in for a good fifty credits, and considering how valuable they were on other planets that was a steal. But it had been a long time since they had gone hunting to where it didn't mean having to actually listen to your employer bitch and moan about how the hell you killed the fucker. As long as they died that was all that mattered. A job was a job is a job. This way they got to hunt without worrying about some higher power to answer to.

They rounded a corner as silently as possibly upon rock and clad in leather, holding the gun up against their chest. Glancing around they spotted the wolf now staring at them, its gold and silver eyes narrowing and its teeth steadily barring heavier and heavier until you could count all of the glittering white fangs in its maws. Well this wasn't how they had planned it going down! But as the wolf started to charge, easily a large alpha male, and the figure stood back from the wall and aimed their gun with a narrowing of their own brown eyes.

As it jumped at the figure, paws out stretched with searing claws and fangs dripping for blood, they merely held out their gun with a sigh, as if this sudden turn bored them. With a muffled bang fire erupted from the tip of the weapon, bursting forth a casing of molten led and various other metals, and hit dead on its target. The bullet ripped through the wolf's head, through the back of its maw, taking out the tip of its tail, and continued on until it buried itself, smoking and flinging off blood, into the rock face behind it, leaving behind a now slumping body of fur that had its head spliced and split and melted in half in the shape of a U and blood pooling already at its feet.

"Now see, you went and took all the fun out of it!" the person said in exasperation before they kneeled and took out their shiv, rolling their eyes. The dagger glittered viciously in the suns rays as they lowered the tip of the weapon towards where the first incision should have gone but that was at the base of the neck that was almost completely obliterated thanks to a short range burst. Shrugging it off as bad karma, or whatever the hell it was called when you were as bad as they were, they rolled the dead animal onto its back and began the process of procuring the necessary pelt for their future trip to one of the Ice Planets. Fun times.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Rolling his head back he had to concentrate on the fact that his arms were encased in cold metal in order not to pass out from the pain resonating from his aching cranium. The ship was dark and hummed loudly as it went through the motions of deep space travel, hunkering along like the piece of trash it really was. This was great, just fucking great. Though it wasn't something he couldn't get himself out of, he'd done it several hundred times before now, it was just that he had thing about getting caught. It seemed that every time he went outside sometimes he ended up on a ship bound for whoever knows where!

The ship, if it could even be called that, was more like an interspatial skiff and was small even for its crew to fit in, much less the fugitives they were picking up at almost every port. Mercs were such pains in the ass, the scum of the universe in his opinion… Feeding off of the bottom dwellers of the stars just so that they can make a few bucks, it was sickening. Then again, he was just pissed because he'd gotten caught and he was being taken to yet another triple max prison where he would serve a month or two before finding a way out. He had better things to do then find a way out of another Slam. But right now, to help avoid the thought of how he had been ambushed, somehow someway, by a bunch of mercs on Tramius seven, he was studying the small holding area in which he was bound in.

His wrists and ankles were being held in thick, heavy metal bands, keeping them held tightly to the wall of the skiff, with only a short chain to allow minimal movement. Even his stomach had been secured with another lock, and though his brain whirled with ways to get out of it so far he had failed to manage to do anything, which was making him all the angrier. Then he glanced over towards the others that had been picked up. Two had been here before he had come aboard, each looking more beat up than he could ever be, and each hanging from the wall in a similar fashion as himself. One was an old man with dirty, blotchy golden hair that came to his shoulders in greasy strings, wearing shabby clothing, and looked rather emaciated. Even an old man like this one, who couldn't have put up much fight at all, was beaten and had a broken nose. The other, surprisingly, had been a girl from what he could see through her jacket and baggy clothing that was sand blasted and dirty as all hell. Her hair looked like it hadn't been brushed in several days and was a dark red verging on brown, with skin that was sun caked and covered in smears of dirt and sand. Her hair covered her face so he didn't get a chance to look upon it but from how her arms were held onto the wall and where he could see bruises and cuts running along them, he could tell that she had been given a beating as bad if not worse than the old man and himself.

Then there was the other criminal that had been picked up a day or so ago, he'd lost count of the hours since going into space and having no sun to tell the time. It was a kid, no older than sixteen, held up in a corner with his eyes covered and half of his face burned from his struggling capture.

And here he was, a murderer, famous throughout the galaxies for his ruthless ways, strapped to a wall like some helpless pup. Richard B. Riddick did not surrender lightly, and this would be no exception. Riddick shifted against his bonds to where his back slid against the wall slightly, feeling the metal band around his waist ride up his abs and scrape them painfully. He shuffled his feet lightly to where they made no noise but to where he could feel how far he could really move, just a few inches. He glanced at his hands in expectation, hoping to see that the mercs had messed up and that the cuffs were too large, only to see that they had not and that they fit perfectly onto his large wrists. Swearing in his mind though ever stoic on the out he glowered at the band around his waist. It would be so much easier if they had not bound him there. A good thrashing around could, in theory, create enough strain on the chains holding him to the wall to snap the weak one and free him.

"Shit… mother fuckers…" Riddick's ears twitched at the sudden swearing and his nose was assaulted with the sudden scent of fright, frustration, and infuriation. He glanced through his dark goggles, never releasing his blank features, and stared at the only girl aboard as she rolled her head back and hissed at the pain it caused. Now he could see the brunt of the damage to her face. She'd been punched a good few times in the jaw and cheeks, her forehead was scabbed over just above her right eyebrow, and there was dry blood keeping one eye glued closed. It seems their captures weren't too nice to her…

Her eyes flittered open tiredly. At first they were glassy and groggy, looking for all the world like she was about to pass out again, but then her brows furrowed and her jaw clenched. Her dark brown eye focused abruptly, snapped from her shock of receiving wounds, and glanced around with a low growl in her throat. Riddick watched her silently as she glanced at her bindings the same manner he did, or damn close to it, only difference was she started to thrash and to scream and yell at the top of her lungs. He didn't move, didn't make a noise, watching as this wild thing that was caught against a wall was fighting with every fiber in her body. Fright and rage rippled off of her own scent, combining with the blood and sweat that were already masking the true smell.

"Hold it, one of them's gettin' rowdy. I'll be right back," Riddick settled fully against the wall. The girls commotion had drawn the attention of the mercs aboard this prison vessel. Heavy boot falls filled the air, coming steadily closer as the man lumbered towards the back of the craft, his steps unbearably loud for the likes of his sensitive ears. He narrowed his silver eyes beneath his goggles and pretended to be slumbering as well as the other three, all the while the girl continued her struggling, throwing insults at the ship, all those aboard, and even herself.

"Shut up!" the merc that had spoken earlier was now in the doorway that lead through the corridor to the main head. He was leaning against it with his arms, his face screwed up in a disdain for the one making the racket. Riddick trailed him as the mercenary stalked forwards, swaying slightly towards the still growling and snarling woman who was now banging her mid section against the wall over and over again.

The man was no more than five foot six, a small size, with a thin and pathetic build. His greasy black hair was balding at the top and his eyes were too small and close together for his thick nose and face. His stench made Riddick struggle not to wrinkle his nose in disgust, a pungent mixture of sweat, body odors, blood, and what seemed like rotten cabbage. He was standing before the girl now, who had stopped her struggling and was staring down at the man with the direst kind of hatred, murderous. Riddick felt something in the air, a tingling, bloodlust that wanted nothing more than for this girl to drive her bare hands into this mans neck and chest, pulling out his jugular and his heart at the same time and watching him flounder in his final moments as his body tried to recognize the organs absence. Oh how he loved the smell of it, the need for murder, the lust for another's life spilled onto the floor, and the girl was reeking of it!

"Don't tell me to shut up you pathetic cockroach! Let me out of here!! If I get my hands on you when I get out of this!!" she said in a deathly quiet voice, her eye blazing and her mouth pulling into a barring snarl.

The merc laughed at her statement, flicking her confinements. Bad move, for the second he got close enough to her she spat right in his face all the blood and saliva that had been gathering in her mouth while she had been asleep, splattering his face in the noxious mixture and making the man gag, his hands flying to his face. His laughter stopped and with a loud, horrible smack the girl's head snapped to the side and a new bruise was steadily forming on her cheek, her eye glaring defiantly at the wall while her teeth were still showing. "How dare you, you piece of shit. I'm not the one that has a three million credit bounty on her head! You're lucky that I don't do worse than smack you…" the merc's eyes traveled up and down her figure that was shielded with her baggy and tattered clothing.

The girl growled low in her throat again as she turned towards the man that had just dared hit her, her face now stoic. The scent of bloodlust was getting stronger and stronger as Riddick watched the scene unfolding, and he had no doubt that should she get out of the very same thing that was holding his massive bulk down that she would rip the man ogling her apart.

"I've killed people for less than that…" she breathed quietly, venom dripping off of every word.

"Yea, well, honey, you're helpless right now. Yer lucky that the prison don't except damaged goods," the merc spat in her face the same way that she had done. He turned on his heel and was unexpectedly facing Riddick, his small eyes beady and watery looking. "And don't ya even think of trying to get outta those! We've made these especially for types like you," the merc barked at Riddick before storming from the room, confident his pathetic warnings would go heeded.

The girl groaned and flicked her head to and fro trying to get the spit from her face, grumbling several profanities under her breath and was starting to go into different languages. She stopped and sighed, sagging against her shackles, and turned towards him with a skeptical look, as if trying to discern if he was awake or not. She really was a pathetic sight, with her hair matted, one eye glued shut, half of her face glittering with spit and phlegm, while her lip was split at the very edge on the left side. He could feel her staring at him, racking over his body while her eyebrows knitted together yet again, her look calculating. The scent of bloodlust was all but gone, leaving him slightly disappointed, but he was growing slightly amused by the continued scrutiny of the mere twenty something year old woman before him.

"It's not polite to stare," Riddick spoke in his deep, gravely voice and watched her jump with fright and surprise. She stared at him with one eye wide, her mouth hanging open. Then she immediately firmed up and the scent of sudden fear and upset was gone, leaving only sweat and dried crimson to hover between them in an almost visible haze.

She took one look of his attire, his tight black tank top, cargo's, boots, and belt, and noticed that all of them were sand blasted, like her own get up. A small grin came to her battered lips and she cocked her head to the side. "Lemme guess, they got you in the Tramius System too, eh?"

Riddick didn't answer right away. He let the silence settle disturbingly thick around them, shift and coil around each of them to where she shifted and withdrew her lips into her teeth to gnaw on cautiously. He was a predator after all, and what were a few mind games before heading into the Slam?

When he could see the quiet was getting too much for her and she was growing frustrated he scoffed slightly. "You could say that," he murmured, not really one for conversation.

The girl eyed him suspiciously, in a way that only a fellow criminal could. She shifted in her long, torn up leather coat and he could practically hear the little wheels inside of her head turning. She was weighting her options here. If she engaged in a conversation with him then there was the chance that the mercs would come back and beat up on them again, or Riddick could fuck with her mind so bad that she was left a shaking mess. Or, she could learn something valuable that help them out in this situation, get them off this ship, and out of their trip to the Slam. He could almost hear her thoughts as her emotions played on her scent slowly, shifting and filling the room, mixing with all of the others.

Finally, her gaze firmed up again and she had come to a conclusion. "Same here," she was going to talk to him.

Not that it would do much good. Riddick wasn't a man for words. He merely inclined his head in acknowledgement before resting against the wall, his head still pounding but he could feel the scab forming over the wound starting to harden and heal. Somehow he had managed to get hit with a four by four, of all things. He had been minding his own business, just on the planet to refresh his supplies and continue his running from the merc's and necromongers when he had been surrounded in a secluded area of a small village. They'd been lucky that he had foolishly landed in a system with three suns, that made his sight all the worse and sensitive. It had been an error on his part to land where he had, if he hadn't then they wouldn't have caught him. He had been too cocky and had paid the price for it.

The girl hissed and tossed her frizzed hair over her shoulder. "Meh, they were lucky. I had spent a few days in the dessert and was tired, otherwise I would've killed them all… they even took the wolf pelt I killed and skinned myself! Those bastards…" she breathed, her mouth pursing in a thin line.

Riddick didn't say anything or even move this time but instead kept his goggled eyes on hers. She sensed his annoyance at her continuing to speak and snorted before settling back into a more comfortable position. She glanced to her right to spot the old man and the boy, a heavy sigh coming from her chest. He smelled sympathy coming from her body and knew instantly what she was saddened by.

"They won't make it," he stated sternly. She cast him a sidelong look, her hair half masking her face. Riddick glanced the boy over then the old man without so much as pity in his tone. "The kids too weak, he doesn't have a chance in there. And the old man will go within a few hours, if the heat doesn't get him then the inmates will."

"I know," she said. With that their conversation ended and they both slipped into silence.

After a few hours the girl once more drifted off, her head supported on her held up arm. Riddick, however, never let his eyes close and let slumber take him for a minute, not trusting anyone or anything on this ship while he was bound up like this. All he could think of was what level of prison were they going to, what Slam exactly, and how he would get out of there.


	2. Chapter 2 Hell's gates

**Chapter two: **

**Hell's gates**

The old man had died by the time the skiff had begun the docking for the large prison planet Brigitus S.8, leaving the stench of death hanging and permeating throughout the hull of the ship. The mercs had thrown a right fit upon finding one of their paychecks dead and had jettisoned him out of the air lock and into the depths of freezing space where he would float until he entered the pull of a planet or star. The silence between prisoners had continued, the girl and Riddick no longer even looking at each other, each too far into their thoughts of their coming internment.

The docking had been rough and choppy, the ship shaking unnecessarily hard when it came in contact with the bay of the large prison. That only gave more discredit to the merc pilot, who clearly didn't know how to land his own vessel. The humiliation at being caught by such idiots was starting to sink in even worse than before. They had all been released of their midsection chains but the others remained on, the shackles pulling from the wall and being latched onto the bottom of the skiff where huge latches laid in wait. With a lurch, Riddick, the girl, and the kid, along with their captors, was pulled towards the open cargo doors and the entire bottom of the holding area detached from the ship and started down a track like run. Now with their hands chained close together and their feet giving them hardly room to walk instead of run the prisoners were left with no choice but to wait patiently as the tracks lead them into the gaping jaws of the towering prison.

Anyone who has ever been in a Slam will tell you that the top means nothing. It's for pure intimidation. So as they all stared up towards the dark, black spiny finger, stretching into the orange sky above, there was no sense of what laid above that held for them… but what was below. Through the yawning metal maw of the main gate they passed, the mercs guns needlessly pointed to all of their backs, and boy starting to sob over how it was self defense. They went deeper and deeper, darkness starting to envelope them and little more than red lights on either side of the cavern allowing for any kind of sight whatsoever. Riddick listened to the girl next to him shift and the youth with them start to blubber and beg for mercy. There was no mercy in the slam… the kid was going to die real quick.

The corridor that seemed to have stretched forever ended with a flash of blinding light, entering into the main complex of the prison's first floor where a massive elevator pad stood in the center as well as ten to fifteen guards all holding their own weapons, staring at the coming prisoners. Among them, the only man without a weapon, stood the warden, watching the bottom of the ship come to a stop at the end of the tracks and the prisoners standing before him. The man looked like a pig, fat and round, with grubby hands and a slimy face that made the girl beside him cringe. The warden eyeballed the prisoners greedily before his eyes came to rest upon the one he had received special word on… Riddick himself. Oh happy day!

"Welcome, gentlemen, lady," he opened his arms and the mercs shoved the guns into Riddick and his unwilling companion's back, forcing them to step forwards. The chains released and they were left to walk in shuffling steps down a small stair towards the waiting guards and their waiting doom. "And especially welcome you, good sir…" the warden stepped forwards when they were free of the cart and was before the man for his inspection. He came right towards Riddick, licking his lips anxiously and giving the muscular man a once over.

"Lift his goggles, we need to make sure he's the real deal," the warden barked. One of the mercs grabbed Riddick's head gruffly, causing the man to growl warningly low in his throat, and lifted up his shielding glasses and exposing him to the light of the room. His silver eyes opened slowly, unaccustomed to the brightness around him, and glared at the men before him. "Oh yes… it really is you. Richard B. Riddick, the murderer extraordinaire! You have quite a bounty on your head, but oh is it worth it," the pig man muttered with a disturbing glitter in his eyes.

Riddick winced when a light was shown right in his eyes; he turned away slowly, his nose wrinkling in another warning. If he didn't have his hands bound like this he would kill this pig man and all of his guards… He noticed, however, when the light moved and the warden was before the girl that he had begun to dub Red in his mind. The warden looked her over through her torn and disheveled clothing. The guards were eyeballing her as well. Female inmates were always a gift from whatever god existed out there. "And you my dear? What is your name?"

"Kiss my ass," the girl snarled. She lunged at him but was stopped by her chain being pulled back harshly, causing her to fall down onto her backside and gasp at the sudden and painful action.

The warden made a disappointed clicking noise with his tongue, shaking his head. He turned to Riddick and then the boy, and then raised his hands out. "Rebelliousness like that will not be tolerated, I'm afraid. Punishment here… is severe," with that Red let out a grunt like yelp as she had an electric prodder put to her throat, causing her body to momentarily convulse. There was the smell of burning flesh in the room and when the prod was pulled away there was a seared mark in the shape of the weapon on the girl's dirty neck. Her brown eyes were smoldering with hatred. Riddick watched it all with his silver eyes narrowed but said nothing, did nothing.

At last it was the moment of truth as the warden came before them and put his hands on his fat hips, his watery eyes examining all of them. He pointed to Red and Riddick, sneering darkly. "These two will be taken down to the double max rings, and that blubbering mess…" he waved his hand at the boy who had collapsed and was sobbing uncontrollably, "will be sent to the pits right away. He will be of no use to anyone but feed."

"What!?" the sixteen year old yelled as he was hauled to his feet. Guards flanked around Red and Riddick, forcing them onto the elevator, while the youth was pushed towards the edge of the platform. The prison, like all other slams, operated in a series of rings that went down and down into deeper parts of the earth, getting steadily worse as they got further down. It was easily a good three miles deep into the earth and where the rings and Slam ended there were grates and cages called 'the pit' where the aliens and other creatures were kept to purge the prison whenever the guards were bored. Red and Riddick stood with their circle of guards, each having their weapons trained on the criminals, as the kid was put to the edge. They watched, somberly, as the boy was pushed while still crying, over the edge. Screaming, he flailed about as he fell deeper and deeper downwards into the blackness that awaiting beneath. They didn't even hear his screams after fifteen seconds or the splat of him hitting the cages beneath.

Red scowled but offered no more acts of foolishness, and the elevator started its way downwards to where they would now be staying. Leaving the merc's and the warden to do whatever the hell business it was they were supposed to do.

"He didn't deserve that…" she breathed.

Riddick didn't respond but only rolled a shoulder, making it crack loudly in the thrumming of the machine. Time to start scoping things out and preparing for his escape.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

It was hell. That was all that this place could be described as. Grim and filth clung to every surface, the metal around them was rusting, and some of the railings surrounding the rings of platforms had rotted off and the ledges were left precarious and dangerous. There was a stench of the air of too many bodies smashed together, of urine and waste, and bodies decaying in the middle of it all. There had yet been a place to bath to be located, so that meant that the days would be spent being greasy and disgusting, as well as there was absolutely no way of going two feet without stumbling over some kind of rat or other carrion animal feeding off of thing she didn't want to know about on the floor.

Georgina's brown eyes flickered to stare up at the cell bars that she had chosen as her sleeping area for the 'nights'. Really it wasn't anything livable, it just so happened to be one of the only units on this level of the double maximum area that didn't have a dead body inside of it. She shifted against her wall and scowled, her fingers clenching and unclenching in an aggravated way. She didn't know how she had been so careless to bring only so many bullets and to dare to not clean her shiv's before heading out with her wolf pelt. And the fact that she had not sensed them stalking her stalking the wolf only made her snarl at herself all the more. She was losing her edge in these times of peace. She remembered the good old days of fighting in the military, of being in space crafts, of shooting down enemies, black ops, the works! Well… at least now her life wasn't boring. Now it was hot as hell, she stunk because she had yet to find a place to shower, and the water here was brown and questionable.

It was hell, put and simple. Her fingers idly thumbed at a small shank she had managed to make from one of the many dead bodies around and some rusted off metal. Took her a full three days to make it to where it was anything like a shiv, having to wrap the base in some of her jacket to keep it together while she was working on the hilt, and even still, it made it easier to hold. Plus… she didn't have anything to mend her poor jacket with. Damn it all.

George stared out of her compartment once more and into the area where the ring was just that, a ring, where it fell off for a good mile down into the triple max area where only the damned went. This time of day the air was getting hazy from all of the body odor and the stench, as well as the gasoline and other fumes from running the cryo beds below. Around this time of day it was best to stay low or else the guards that were now patrolling would decide to have a little fun, one way or another. What fun the last two weeks had been… Her red hair, though, had been doused with the strange brown water, making it slightly more manageable if not slightly stinky, and was now held in yet another leather tie from her jacket. Oh the wonders of your own personal clothing being used for other measures. She'd already had to use her shank on someone for trying to be a bit too friendly on the fifth day, she had been punished again and the body thrown to the monsters.

George span her shank in her fingers momentarily before reflecting on how she had gotten here, or rather, who with. That man… she remembered that Riddick fellow. Sure she'd heard of him, all people in her line of work have; a killer so proficient that if you so much as look at him you won't see his blades until your head is already rolling away. Somehow… she'd pictured him slightly different yet exactly the same. That muscular body, heavy and taught with power, intimidated her just from sight, knowing that he could snap her in half like a twig had sent a thrill of terror through her when her eyes had first laid upon him. Then she'd been struck by the fact that he was so quiet, so reserved, and yet there had been something in that silence that told her she was in the presence of a wholly dissimilar animal than herself. He was singular from anything she'd ever seen, just the feeling he gave off, just sitting there in the holding bay, had been filled with danger and her instincts had been screaming to run away. Then there was the fact that when one of the mercs had torn his goggles off of his head he had the most interesting eyes on the face of the planet. Swirling silver, molten glowing metal, and they had seemed like they could pierce into ones soul, judge them… it had made her body run cold almost as much as the fact that he could kill her in a thousand ways with just his hands.

It made her glad she hadn't seen him on these fifteen something rings since they'd gotten thrown down here. It wasn't that she was not confident in her own abilities to protect herself, she wouldn't be a good fighter, killer, and assassin if she didn't know how to fend someone off, but he… he was different.

There weren't even beds on this layer. All the beds were for the first rings, where they weren't much of a threat. Here all they had was the floor and whatever they could get their hands on. George sighed as she leaned back further on the wall, her eyes narrowing in disdain of this place. Though she had been secretly scoping this place out for any weaknesses she had yet to formulate a good plan. But considering that a 'good plan' had gotten her into this mess, perhaps a bad one would win her freedom.

"Hey, George! The guards are fighting with some inmates, c'mon!" George's head snapped up. There, at the opened door of her small room, was the form of the only person she even spoke to in here. She was a girl around nineteen in for killing her family for some reason or another, or something like that, George really had not been listening, and she had what would have been beautiful blond hair and bright green eyes. She motioned for the red haired woman to follow.

"None of my business, Ave," Georgina said with a dismissive wave of her hand. She picked her boot with her shank, prying free a large rock that would only get replaced the second she took a step. She hated this place more than she could say.

Ave sighed in exasperation and put her hands on her hips. She wore low slung, ill fitting jeans that were in complete and total tatters, and her tank top that was once white was now a dingy grey with black specks. She shot a sour look at George before waltzing into her cell with a put off glare. "Seriously? I mean, c'mon, this is one of the only chances we have to kill those fuckers! They come down here for a fight, and when they get one, then we get to do whatever we want with them," Ave said with a wicked sneer.

George idly wondered how she would have been had prison not warped her mindset. The brown eyed other shrugged her shoulders. "Again, not my problem. I don't like to fight when I don't need to," she murmured.

Ave scoffed. "I thought you were some bad ass!"

"I am," George said with a smirk that spread from ear to ear, her brown eyes glittering, "I'm just a bad ass that likes to keep the peace when she needs to and likes to fight when she wants. And right now, I'm content picking rocks from my boots," she threw a rock at Ave's head to get the message across. Making a grunting noise the blond woman turned on her heel and stormed from the cubicle, leaving George once again in sweet silence. If only for a moment.

There was scuffling and yelling coming her way, informing her that the fight had spilled over into her ring and that her cell was about to be taken in by all of the violence. Rolling her eyes she stood and brushed off her jacket the best she could before putting her shank into the sleeves, holding the hilt with her thumb idly, and leaning back into the shadows. The male inmates were pushing and shoving at guards, punching and using homemade weapons to inflict damage, whereas the guards were using their tasers and plasma guns to either kill or immobilize. She watched from the shadows the whole scene take place, not moving to help either side, and frankly quite bored with these fights that broke out every five hours or so. She had already killed two guards; it wasn't like they were hard to take down.

She spotted Ave at the edges, cheering the guys and burlier girls on, pumping her fist in the air. The blond was stopped dead when a taser was shot right into her breast and caused her to scream with the sudden jolt of high voltage. Almost as soon as the fight broke out it was over, each side retreating with their wounded to fight this battle another day. There were several inmates dead now, and George supposed that this was another way to purge the population, to let new blood come in. As twisted as that was… it made a lot of sense. That and humans were stupid, territorial creatures, they couldn't help but fight amongst themselves… she included herself in this list.

Ave was walking away from the four bodies, rubbing her chest where there was now a burn hole in her tank. She had passed right by where George had been observing only the inmate in question snickered and asked sardonically, "was that as fun as you had hoped?"

Ave stopped dead and glared in the direction where her acquaintances voice had come from. "Shut it, Georgina!"

George growled under her breath, shifting her shoulders and settling into where she had hidden. It wasn't wise to sleep during the day, when everyone was awake, but it wasn't wise to sleep at night either, because then you were expected to be asleep and vulnerable, so one had to pick when one rested very carefully. In some ways her prison term was like a chess game, she was merely waiting for a pawn or rook to come across so that the passage way would be cleared and she would be able to make her way to the King and win this game. She could picture the wardens fat face now as she tore off his ears with her recovered daggers and then sliced him from forehead to navel, deep and hard, gutting him while he was still alive. The fucker would get what was coming to him. So would the mercs that put her in here. Oh but her list was growing fast…

Growing bored of sitting in one area she put her knife in her pants hem and started an almost leisurely stroll among the other inmates and the ring that she was currently on. She walked around for a good few minutes, dodging falling wire bundles, hopping over barriers with yellow and black lines, and was heading towards the edge where she would grip onto the railing and then pull herself up to the another ring quickly when she stopped cold in her tracks. She could feel someone watching her, and though that was never a surprise in this joint, this stare was different. This one was cold, calculating, as if sizing her up, and it had her stomach bottoming out within seconds.

George remained calm on the outside but she was starting to panic on the inside as she turned her head slowly to and fro to see just who it was that had her suddenly riled up. Her body was on alert of its own accord, the hairs on her arms were standing on end, and her breathing had hitched just a little. Surprisingly she was in an area where there were no other inmates; strange since the last time she had been around here there had been around ten just dangling their legs over the ledge alone. But still… she could sense something. Darkness gripped every corner, every wall, enshrouding whatever it was that had a beam on her, making it hard for her to pinpoint wherever it was. It moved, she could feel it, not hear it… no, it was silent, almost as if it didn't exist, like it was one with the shadows. Shivering despite herself George drew her shank and started to hold it loosely in her hand, prepared, if need be, to jump down to another ring after throwing her hand made weapon.

Sensing she wasn't welcome here she turned and balanced herself on one of the only railings that wasn't rusted to the core on this level, and launched herself to the next floor, gripping into the metal and then hoisting herself up with the aid of her much toned arms. She left whatever was there in peace, leaving as fast as she could, all the while thanking her lucky stars that whatever it was had not moved to attack her. It had been… overwhelming. Just the knowledge that whatever it was had been staring at her, studying her, stalking her. George put the thoughts behind her and trudged off towards where she knew a small trickle of brown water was, licking her lips anxiously.

Riddick moved silently from the shadows that had been griping his form so tightly a moment before and glanced to the roof of a floor over his head, his unshielded eyes narrowing. He ran his tongue over one of his incisors, making a small tsk noise before he glanced at the railing upon which she had stood and escaped from him.

He had claimed this area as his own for the next two days. It would be where he slept, where he ate when he got food, and where he would be plotting his escape from here that was already half formed in his mind. The second he had arrived on the scene the ten convicts had all laughed and eyeballed him, making crude comments and shooing him away, saying that this was their turf and not to mess with them. When one had been stupid enough to get violent with Riddick he had snapped the man's neck and then asked if anyone wanted to go next. They had all gotten up and rushed away from the muscle bound stranger, looking like they were going to piss themselves by just being in his presence. Then again, he had that affect on people.

Just the fact that someone had dared to come here when he was sure word had spread through the double max rings that this was where the new crazy guy was staying made him blink. She had obviously not heard about it… but how? Word spread like wild fire in the Slam, it was worse than his experience, or lack thereof, in school. He had stalked this new comer in his domain, watching them intently. Masking his footsteps to silence and making it seem like there was nothing but dark around them he watched the woman walk over to the edge of the railing and glanced down then up with a slightly puzzled look. Then she had stopped. The silence of the area had given him away, or rather that the place was altered, and she was on high alert.

Dread had radiated from her body in waves, but it was also mixed with nervousness and a strange curiosity, all of which caused his blood to pump faster. The animal in Riddick loved the scent of fear and nervousness, it was a sign of weakness, and weaknesses were the downfall of his enemies. If they feared him then there was no way he could lose. So when she had started to glance around with her mouth pursed and her hand now gripping onto a shank hard he was abruptly alight with the prospect of a fight from this girl. She had seemed strong enough, though her form was hidden with a nearly dead coat, she resonated cockiness even in her alarm that only a skilled fighter could have.

She could sense him moving so she had backed up a little and had glared at the dankness around her. He was enjoying watching her eyes dart around like a scared rabbits. But then the fun had ended when she vaulted onto the railing, jumped up, and was gone with a firm heave of her arms up to the ring above, leaving Riddick with nothing but a lingering scent.

He found it somewhat entertaining that she had managed to stay that long without immediately high tailing it. Then something slammed in his brain and his glowing eyes truly did narrow, his mouth coming into a slight frown. The red hair, he had not recognized it because it had been pulled back and beaten into submission by water, but that same hair and those same eyes and jacket. It had been the woman from the skiff that he was brought here with.

So she had lived her first few weeks in the Slam, huh? Well that had to say something for a woman, especially one that had been stupid enough to try and attack the warden of this place while still in chains. Riddick turned his attention back towards the cell that was in the corner with a look of disdain. He had not even seen her since they had gotten here together, he had not even thought of her until this moment. Deciding that there was only so much room in a prison, that he was bound to run into her eventually, maybe even again, he pushed it aside and started to look at the falling wiring of the platforms with interest. There could be something useful for these in his coming attempt…


	3. Chapter 3 Reason to fear the dark

**Chapter three: **

**Reason to fear the dark**

Georgina dodged an attack from a fellow inmate with ease, stepping to the side with a flurry of her feet and wearing a bored expression on her face. She stepped backwards when he lunged at her, reaching out to grab and pin her down, her steps moving fluidly while her body was completely relaxed from the void threat. Ducking her head she avoided a punch only to land one hard to the man's side, causing him to splutter and fall back a few feet, gripping between his ribs where a dark bruise would now form in the shape of the handle of her shiv. Her brown eyes narrowed darkly and her fingers were flexing idly, watching the idiot that had come against her in this place when she was already having a bad day.

The male charged her again and she once again dodged to the side, pulling herself flat against the dingy wall. When he was before her, bent over from the sudden lack of a second figure to attack, she brought her knee up hard and her elbow deep into the cavern of his neck, causing a sickening crack to fill the air around her. She span around, kicking his form from off of her, and watched as he rolled away with an indifferent look, her red hair having been ripped from its ponytail and falling around her face in unruly curls. She stepped forwards, her shank in her hands and her head shaking from side to side in disappointment.

"I told you not to mess with me? Did you listen? No," she shrugged and brought her knife to under her lip, tapping it there, confident in the sharp blade. She put her hands up in a sign of exasperation as the guy that had attacked her spluttered from a broken vertebrae, trying to move but only succeeding in pulling himself with his arms a good inch. She raised her eyebrows at his attempt to escape then scoffed and snickered, a strange sneer coming to her lips. "I suppose it's only logical, that a man's libido in a place like this will override any and all sense, but c'mon. I'm obviously out of your league, even without the killer," she flicked her shank to where it glittered dangerously and promisingly in the air, "instinct. So why bother dude? Lemme guess, you thought you could overpower me because I'm a woman and, yes, I am physically weaker than you. The only problem with your plan was the fact that I am trained at what I do, you my friend," with that she knelt down to his height among the cords and rusting mounts of metal that surrounded her. Other convicts had been watching at the edges but had started to recede from the scene, their eyes wide as they watched this girl now put her knife to the man back and start to cut at the fabric with a bored look in her eyes.

"Please, please, I'm sorry!" he pleaded with her.

George's eyes hardened and she spat at him, grabbing his chin and making him look at her with a growl. Then she smiled gently, her shoulders relaxing and her entire demeanor returning to that of the woman that had arrived, one that was bored and only waiting for a way out. "No you're not… you wanted action and you supposed that I would provide it. When I didn't you got angry like the rapist you are in here for," she mused and once again tapped her knife to her chin, looking deep in thought. "Now, as I was saying. I'm trained at what I do but you my friend… you are just a blundering idiot that managed to get some girls and a few little boys that were too weak to defend themselves, giving you an overconfident sense in your abilities. However, now that I've paralyzed you from the waist down… including your pecker," George said with a small leer pulling at her lips. The man stared up at her with wide, desperate eyes, his orifice hanging open. She turned back to him with a blank look and raised her shank above her head.

In a flash it was all over. The knife was buried between the fifth and fourth lumbar vertebrae, causing the scream that would have lifted from his body to halt in his rapidly filling throat and his structure to go cold all over with alarm and coming death. He slumped forwards as red seeped from the wound upon his back, leaving this world as violently has he had come into it. The prisoners around her all started to whisper as George pulled out her weapon and stared at its blood slicked surface ponderingly, her jaws in a firm line. Shrugging and swinging it a few times to get the red stuff off of her hard work she stood and flipped her hair from off of her shoulder and turned to the others. "Anyone else wanna try to get some?" she said with a content smile.

With a rush the others were all gone, leaving her and her cell alone. Looking somewhat disappointed, yet again, she sauntered over to her chamber and plopped down in it, cleaning it of blood on her now red stained tank top. She had gone for another walk to stretch her legs, doing her now routine of jumping, balancing, and walking around on the other rings. However, when she had come back to _her_ room there was someone waiting for her within its confinements. He had come towards her like a blithering fool, trying to pin her to her room's wall, when she had punched him in the jaw, making him stumble out of it and had started this fight by continuing to try to get upon her and violate her. She had warned him, but he had been too blind by lust to even listen to her, so she had done what she was trained to do, or rather, compelled. She'd taken his life. No big deal, the universe was filled with them, what was one more? And a rapist on top of that.

"Geez, George," Ave murmured as she popped her head into the booth, holding onto the bars and staring at the fellow murderer with wide eyes. There was terror there, fright of what the red haired woman could do.

George raised her eyes towards the blond woman, the twinkle of blood lust and adrenaline still pumping in her figure violently. "He deserved it…" she whispered, resting her head against the wall.

"I know, but that was excessive! You're insane," Ave concluded, not venturing into the woman's area but instead hanging before the door where she could get some room to run should the older decide that the blond knew too much.

Georgina smirked darkly at her, just enough to show her incisors, brown eyes mocking. "Insane, eh? Well, I've certainly been called much worse, I suppose; monster, murderer, bitch, whore… I think I like insane the best," she murmured and put her shank into the hem of her pants yet again, not minding that a small edge caught her hip and caused a small drop of red to stain her pants. Then she shifted and stated sardonically, "I did warn him, Ave. It seems no one listens in here, why do I bother?"

Ave mouthed her shock at her ramblings then lowered her head. She thought for a moment and George wondered if she was seriously thinking if her murder was justified instead of just a sudden need to get her shank another try. Sometimes she worried for the girl that she was going to turn into something as crazy and hardened as herself. The other woman finally leaned heavily against the bars, pressing her body against it and holding her arms against the tops. "You really are crazy."

"I already told you that," George grinned brightly and put her hands behind her head. "With the word insane you can get away with so much and people just blame it on the fact that you're supposedly crazy! I love it. People make assumptions, make stupid decisions just because they think that you don't know what you're doing, when in reality you are fully aware and fully conscious, the only thing that you can't really detect is whether or not the person feels a lot of pain. Then again, I've heard that when you are dying that the pain leaves and all that's there is the most beautiful feeling of pleasure and numbness. Could be a lie though… a lie to calm the masses for worrying over people like me," she stopped her self musings and glanced to the confused blond who was staring at her like she had thrown a second head.

She sighed and waved a dismissive hand, rolling her eyes. Note to self, no interesting conversations with the blond girl, she murmured to herself. "Look, if it makes you feel better," George's lips once again turned into a sarcastic smile that was mocking and dull, "I've never thought about killing you. Or anyone else really, its just when the moment comes. I rarely plan something out," she commented.

Having heard enough of the clearly more battle ready convict Ave nodded her head dumbly and turned, walking away and leaving George once again to her silence. The red head raised her head and glanced the corpse laying in the middle of her territory with a frown, her mind working in over time. If the guards found that cadaver then she would get stunned again, and then worse, and considering that she didn't particularly enjoy the shocks she stood and kicked her boots against the floor to get her feet where she liked them. Shrugging her jacket off to not get any excess blood on it she walked over to the dead man and crouched once again, sighing heavily. "It was your own fault you know," she affirmed and started to roll him over towards the edge where it would fall into the pits and then become a sacrifice to the monsters that lived bellow.

When it fell and landed just a mile below with a very faint, sickening thud, she nodded to a job well done when the screaming of whatever lived down there started up and began to rip into their food for the day. Turning on her heel she gazed into her chamber and was going to pick up her jacket when… it was gone.

Rage. Unbridled, unheeded, unhindered, pure blinding white hot rage filled her body at that moment and her fingers tingled, blood lust filled her structure again and her ears were thrumming with the rushing of crimson. Her vision became tunnel at someone taking her precious jacket and she turned left and right with a snarl, her gripping her shank threateningly. Whoever had taken it would become the second man she murdered today, no questions asked! That coat was hers, had been hers, for years!

Turning this way and that she finally decided on one direction to storm into and terrorize the other inmates, a scream bubbling at the back of her throat. Her jacket was her jacket was her jacket, no one else's!

When she had gone a heavy thud sounded in the middle of the area where the girl had been standing. There, crouching like a cat, was the powerful form of Riddick. Glancing after her for a split second he turned to where a blood pool where her latest victim had been before turning to the coat gripped in his hand. Bringing the leather up to his nose cautiously he took a big whiff of the scent that was still lingering on it. Her scent was ground into the fibers, he could tell, it was between ever single thread, every single stitch, and it would stay there for the rest of the garments natural life. Her scent was heady, strong, and inert, the constant tinge of blood was covering the coat but he managed to lock that way and focus only on the dark scent of oleanders mixing with that musky smell that could only be a female.

He was caught off guard at how good it felt to swiftly be basking in her smell. Pulling away abruptly he stared down at it with a slight growl in his throat, his fingers closing in tightly around the already abused coat of many years. Just who was this girl? She could obviously handle herself in a fight; she had dodged that man like a pro and then had toyed with his final moments as if they were nothing to her. Hardened and distant from others suffering, a trained killer, one that didn't even so much as think before her dagger was into someone's back or throat. She was obviously different form the rest of the convicts here, mere sociopaths and homicidal maniacs that couldn't control themselves and had gotten caught within weeks of their crimes.

Standing up and straightening his hulking form he threw the jacket over his shoulder and leaned against the bars of the cubicle door, waiting patiently like the predator he was. Down here it was dark enough to where his goggles were not needed, meaning that his vision of purple and blue was everywhere, piercing the gloom around him and giving away every single little thing that was before his silver gaze. He pondered on how long it would take her to make the loop back to her cell then decide that the thief was on another ring. Either way he could wait.

It had now been three months since they had both arrived. Those months were going by taxingly slow, he was bored and that was all there was to it. And when he was bored bad things started to happen. He would start to pick fights, would fuck with other people's minds, and would even start to kill if he was in that deeply, all because he wasn't being entertained. Being alone for long periods of time had given him the gift of brooding within his own mind, but when his plans were at a stalemate and there was nothing he could but twiddle his thumbs about it, that's when things started to get as they were. And so he had focused on something other than the looming drudgery in his mind. Riddick instead focused on finding out who the girl he had arrived with was, what was her back story, and if she really was, 'insane'. Stalking was his favorite hobby after all, he loved to come behind someone in the dark, follow them around silently, and watch the hairs all over their body stand up with the sudden sensation of being watched. It was thrilling, it was something he lived for, and it would provide him with adequate diversion.

Finally, finding his train of thought on the red haired woman becoming strained, since he didn't know enough to truly brood over it, he turned around to the idea of Jack and Imam, the people he had left behind. Well… the people that had been killed. All by the necromongers, the idiots that had bowed to him when he had killed their leader. Riddick had thumbed with the thought of staying. Free food, free rooms, an army to command, and all the women he could stomach, and even better, knew weapons that were the highest grade he'd ever seen. The only issue had been that he had been bored stiff there. That and he was now the leader of the people that had killed his race, and that train of thought had not gone over well for him. So he'd killed a few high ranking Necro's and had gotten the hell out of dodge, fleeing away from his 'empire' and escaping to the Tramius system. Just in time to hear the word that the necromongers wanted him imprisoned or dead for what he had done and he had a twenty million credits bounty on his head. Just as well, he didn't' want to go back onto the ship where Jack had perished or to hear them constantly whine about the Underverse and how he should convert.

He liked to be free. He liked to be able to go where he wanted, to do what he wanted, and to have to constantly look over his shoulder for mercs and hunters that were after the bounty on his head. It had become ingrained in him to love that fight, to love constantly being on edge, to have paranoia gripping him in varying degrees throughout his life, and it had been impossible to ask him to give that up. There was nothing he liked more than to lead a bunch of mercs through a cave, ice planet, dessert, whatever, only to kill them all and continue on his way, aware that the next wave was just right behind them. It was his version of heaven and hell. He hated it but needed it at the same time. There was no way he had been able to just lay back and enjoy the good life when he was so used to the bad.

Riddick was not a man for inaction. He needed constant stimulation, need for life and death struggle, and the feel of his heart pounding in his ears when he was lost in the thrill of a fight. He wondered if that was the reason he kept ending up in Slam's… His mind then wandered to Jack, or rather, Kyra.

She had made it in the Slam all right, more than he could have ever expected from the likes of the once tomboy that he had run into on that damn planet. She had even gotten to the point where survival wasn't that big of a deal and that she could live in the place without being under constant threat. But she'd been scared, he could smell it on her from a mile away, and he had known that she was not the type that could have made it in there for the rest of her life, or one that could think of her own way out. Fear was often the most paralyzing sensation in the entire universe, it stopped you from thinking clearly, and a plan to get out like his own that day from Crematoria should have been obvious to someone as clever and intelligent as Jack.

A pang shot through Riddick at the memory of how she had died. The only person in this universe that he had allowed himself to care about had been killed by the leader of the necromongers… and his name to. It was stupid, pathetic really, but Jack had saved his life that day with her own, and that made it all the worse. He hadn't been able to protect her, like he should have, and he hadn't been able to even say that he cared about her more than he had ever cared about anything in his twisted life before she was cold and gone. Yet another reason why he had run from being the Lord Marshall of the Necro's. Because he hated them for taking his girl away from him, a girl he had cared about like a daughter.

So here he was. Back to being addicted to the games he had thought were wearing thin on him. Jack had helped him become more human, had helped keep the animal at bay, just knowing that she was near was enough to make the roaring in his ears and need for battle to quail to a mere murmur. He had become Richard during those times with Kyra, but now, with her death, he was back to being Riddick. Richard was gone forever.

Imam he supposed was all right. Riddick had never really cared all that much about him. However, he had heeded enough that when he died he had felt bad for a few days, longer than he had ever mourned anyone in his life. He couldn't forget the night when the holy man's life had been snuffed out, just like when Fry had been taken and when Jack had sacrificed herself. He rapidly wrinkled his nose and looked to the center of the prison, pushing back his thoughts and determined not to think on these things anymore. It wouldn't' do any good to think on things he couldn't change, like death.

Riddick blinked then glanced over to his right, narrowing his silver eyes. He slowly stepped back into the dark around the unit, melding into the shadows, crossing his arms deftly. Her scent was back, and now that she was getting closer he could hear her loud and angry footfalls, stomping on the metal of the platform and causing some of the fallen cords to shiver with the motion. It had taken a shorter amount of time than he had thought… then again from the scene she had just made the inmates would have been exceptionally cooperative.

George came storming into sight, muttering curses under her breath while holding a newly bloodied shiv. She stopped before her cell and once more glanced into the room to find it as empty as she had left it, wondering where the hell it could have gone in such a short amount of time. He could hear the wheels in her head turning again, thinking it over. He knew now that she was thinking about how she hadn't heard a foot step or anything like that when she'd been shoving that carcass to the pits beneath and he also knew that she was going through all possibilities in her mind. He had learned much from following her just over the last two days that when she was in deep thought her brows furrowed to where a small line appeared between them and her lips would purse into an almost nonexistent line.

"Well shit," she breathed and put her hands behind her head. Now that Riddick could see her from the shelter of her jacket he was allowed to see that as she stretched her tank top showed off her flat and toned stomach, showing off a sloping version of a six pack. Her arms were toned to perfection but also had scars littering up and down them, as did her chest, some circular from gun shots, and some from blades, and one particularly nasty one at the base of her back that looked like she had been hit by a plasma gun. Her dark green tank top had become dingy and disgusting looking, her skin was smeared with drying blood of others and dirt from sleeping on the ground of this place, and her hair had once again been tied back into a firm ponytail.

Riddick took a small step towards her, stalking forwards with all of his ability of keeping silent, until he was almost right behind her.

"Looking for something, Red?" Riddick's voice broke through her tense, thinking silence. She started harshly to where she flew back from him, had her shiv ready to throw and was in a defensive position while gripping at her heart through her tank. Brown eyes flared at him in first insult then in recognition, then finally the familiar fright that he was used to. Her eyes swept over his face, his revealed eyes, and even his stronger body, before settling back on his face, licking her lips anxiously.

Then her gaze snapped onto his shoulder where her jacket was draping off like some kind of cape and instantly her scent changed from surprise and panic to that of anger and indignation. "That's mine," she breathed calmly and straightened herself, pointing at the leather coat with a deathly cold stare.

Riddick raised an eyebrow and glanced to the jacket then back to her. He lifted it off his shoulder and began to turn it around and inside out, looking all over it, and when he didn't find it he merely shook his head. "Doesn't have your name anywhere, it's mine now. Nice jacket too, I could use it for scrap leather," he shrugged it back onto his back and watched her reaction.

George snarled and rolled her shoulders, seeing that there was no choice but a confrontation with this man that could snap her like a twig. She glance back and forth from him to her property, her heart hammering in her chest uncomfortably. She had hoped she might never see this guy again, something about being in his company made her shudder and her blood run cold. She shifted to where her dagger was twirling around in her fingers lazily. "It's mine, give it back, you had no right to take it," she snarled and took a small step towards the bald behemoth of a man.

"Way I see it," he murmured in his deep voice that made George stop in her angry steps, his silver eyes locking firmly and icily upon hers. She shrank back slightly at that stare that pierced right into her core and made her entire organization stand on high alert, ultra-sensitive to everything around her and every noise seemed to be multiplied a thousand times. He thumbed his goggles for a brief second before continuing in the purposeful silence, "since we're in the Slam, everything is up for grabs. Nothing belongs to just you when you're down here, Red."

"Stop calling me that, my name is George," she snapped and put her hands on her hips, eyeing her coat then Riddick and gauging her chances of winning in a fight against this guy. She had heard rumors, sure, but they could be just that, rumors. She had run into legendary hunters that had turned out to be nothing more than pathetic little weaklings that had spread their own fame, this guy, Richard B. Riddick could be the same. There was no proof that he took out the Lord Marshall, that he's killed thousands, none that she had heard at least. She felt inclined to believe that this guy was nothing more than a phony. But… if he was the real deal then she was playing a dangerous game of Russian roulette here, where her life was nothing more than a flick of this guys pinky finger.

Riddick sneered slightly at her and then it was promptly put back under his calm and stoic exterior, taking a step towards her. She took an instinctual one back, her stare trained on him while her hands were into tight fists, ready for anything. Another step forwards and she took another sliding one back, bringing her make shift shank up to her thigh, her nostrils flaring in anxiety. Silence choked around them once again, as it had on the ship, as Riddick took another drawn out, eerily silent step towards his prey. Surprisingly she didn't move but instead her mouth came down in an intense frown. "George, huh? You a guy under all that cleavage or are you a little girl playing at a man's game?" he goaded, crossing his thick arms.

George flared at that, her back straightening and her anger coming out in wonderfully powerful waves. She pointed her shiv at him accusingly, "What I want to call myself is my business, ass hole. And that is my jacket, and I want it back, or else!"

Riddick raised his eyebrows at that, a mocking sneer spreading over his face. He took another step forwards, unlocking his arms and cracking his neck. "Is that a threat, Georgie?" he breathed.

The red haired woman before him scoffed but none the less went back into a more self-protective pose, her chest heaving with the oncoming fight. There was a thick anticipation in the air, seeming almost visible in a haze of red, mixing with the smells around him and assailing Riddick's sensitive noise. He watched her finger her wicked little shank for reassurance… even though they both knew she was out matched here. He started to circle her, masking his footsteps again, making her have to look at him to keep him in her senses, and watched as she began to get more and more worked up. Circling her like a wolf and a cornered prey, and for all the worlds Georgina did feel like a trapped animal while this man was circling her, sizing her up blatantly.

Gritting her teeth she couldn't take it anymore and lashed out with a growl, anticipating his current pattering of walking around her, only to have her shank meet with air and a hand gripping at the back of her tank top. Her brown eyes widened considerably and she was pulled back before she could even think, thrown against a wall, and to be mocked with him standing in the middle of the space, his head cocked to the side. George swallowed her broken pride and got off of the pillar she'd been hit against and rolled her slightly sore shoulder. He had moved so fast! She hadn't even seen or felt him before it was too late! So the rumors were true… that meant she was in serious trouble.

"Just give it back," George said with irritation in her voice.

"Come and get it," he stated simply and held it out with one hand, his face ever stony. She stared at him skeptically before making a grab for it only to have thrown from her reach and have him push her towards another pillar. She grumbled and pushed against it, turning quickly, and moved to kick where he had last been only to have her ankle caught under his arm and have herself pulled forwards gruffly.

She hoped and balanced on one foot, refusing to let herself be thrown go the ground and sliced her shiv to where his arms were holding her, forcing him to release her cargo clad leg and giving her enough time to swing around with a punch. He avoided it, the bastard, and pushed her arm aside, grabbing her hair, and spinning her around to where her front hit against the bars of her chamber, causing her to grunt with pain. Rolling her eyes she span around and kicked in a wide arch, barely missing him by an inch and jumping at him, her shank in her hand her frustration at her inability to hit this man evident in her face.

She was kicked back after a few missed shots and gripped her side, glaring darkly at this ass hole who had her only real possession. She charged him again in a blind rage, swiping and kicking, punching at him in rapid succession. Riddick continued to dodge, bending at almost impossible angles to get away. When he moved from her shank, however, she managed to get an accidentally swipe with her fingers, her nails sharp and uneven from their lack of care, and caused violent red marks to appear on his muscled arms.

Riddick paused in his dodging, and George paused in her one sided fighting, and both stared at the wound with perplexed looks. He shot her a gaze that she wasn't sure of, a mixture of amusement and something else she couldn't define before he was on the assault. It was all she could do to move out of the way as he punched at her, moving out of the way of a particularly strong one only to have her tank grabbed and have her slammed into a wall along with it. She gasped, arching her back in distress and pain, before opening her brown eyes to see the famed murderer a mere inch from her face, his breath hitting against her nose and cheeks.

She wasn't phased by it. She threw her shank up and just barely missed hitting his neck, causing a very small gust of wind between them with the force at she had attacked. He jumped back in time before trying another attack, slamming his clawed palm forwards, but she narrowed her eyes and threw herself around the corner of the pillar. It hit the metal and the entire structure shook with the force, her eyes widening in surprise of this guys strength. Her heart was officially throbbing in her head and throat and her fright was now overwhelming her. She moved but just barely and got clipped in the arm from a devastating punch, causing her to grunt and grip at it in pain.

He was too strong. She may have been a match for anyone else in this prison but compared to Riddick she was nothing! She glanced upwards in time to see him move in a blur of motion, in time to be shoved against a wall again and be pinned there on both sides of her shoulders. She growled at him dangerously, moving to cut him with her weapon when he grabbed her wrists and slammed them above her head harshly.

George snarled to the point where her teeth were visibly bared. She moved to rack him with her knee but he abruptly stood on her feet, forcing their hips together in a rather uncomfortable position. "What do you fucking want, shit head?" she snapped, blowing a stray strand of her hair from her face.

He craned his head forwards to where his face was mere centimeters from hers causing the red head to suck in a confused breath, her brown eyes flashing with distrust. "What do _you_ want?" he fired the question back at her though in a quiet, and deathly disturbing way that made goose bumps break out on her skin.

Swearing under her breath at her apparent weakness she stared him right into his radiant orbs, her feet shifting under his feebly. It was then that she realized just how close Riddick was, his feet atop of hers making him tower even more above her, his nose grazing hers just slightly, and his chest pushing on hers unapologetically. She swallowed hard and tried to pry her hands from his impossibly hard grasp but it failed and so she resorted to glaring at him again, finding that her tongue was swollen and her orifice was dry. She had no retort to that; he had caught her off guard when her mind was still mulling over what the hell that question meant. There was no possible way that someone like _the_ Riddick, the mass murderer, would be doing this for any other purpose than for some kind of strategic hand… only problem was with his breathing against her lips and face, warming them to where she could feel the blood rushing to the surface, she was having a hard time concentrating. Oh God was she twisted if she was actually enjoying being inches away from death!

For all she knew he could try and snap her neck because she accidentally scratched him! Without thinking, without processing it with her logic, the words spilled from her lips recklessly, "Freedom."

Riddick chuckled at that, a mocking laugh that reverberated deep in his chest and thus into her own. She felt her cheeks flame at his ridicule but merely jutted out her lower jaw in pride and looked away from him. It was a reasonable wish. She wanted freedom from the prison, from the people pursuing her, and even more so right now, freedom from him. She was about to try thrashing around like a wild animal, like she had on the ship, when he did something unexpected.

Riddick lowered his mouth to her ear that was revealed thanks to her hair pulled back in its unruly bindings and breathed against it. He could feel her stiffen, smell her hasty confused arousal, and it made his head swim momentarily. Instead of acting on his abrupt want to bite at her neck, hard, until it drew blood and listen to this wild cat of a woman whimper and submit to him, he focused on the fact that he was here for a reason. He had not come here simply to anger her and steal her jacket, though that would be interesting, he was here because he had need for someone like her in his escape plans. "Then we share that want," he grumbled into her ear, his lips almost on the shell. She once again shivered under him and let out a frustrated noise. Her puzzlement was mounting and it was almost as addicting as panic…

Her head curved to where they were almost eye to eye, her brows creased. The wheels were working again and then a leer worked its way over her features, her fingers flexing against his hold. "Well, well, seems the rumors are true in a lot of aspects. You are planning a way out of this hell hole, ain't ya?" she murmured, shifting to where her chest was not pressed to his, settling into a somewhat more relaxed pose. Then again it was hard to get comfy when there was a crazed killer standing on your feet…

Riddick returned her sneer for a second, taking a moment to drive his nose into her hair and take in a large inhale of her odor. She once again shivered and he could once more smell the rising bafflement at why he was acting this way when by all facts she should be dead by getting into a fight with him. Bringing his mouth slowly from her neck, barely missing the skin by mere millimeters, he was back up to her face, staring down at her with a smug look, as he nodded. George grinned at him and cocked her head to the side, her shoulders moving to where they weren't pressed so hard into the damnable wall.

"What's the catch?" she asked cynically.

"No catch, Red," he stated simply. He took a moment to study her face. He couldn't help himself. He hadn't been this close to a woman in over six months now; he couldn't deny himself the lips that were a mere breaths width away. So in an instant his orifice had claimed hers possessively, causing the woman under him to truly go rigid, her eyes wide, but he didn't care. It was a quick kiss by his standards, more like a violent peck, where his mouth covered hers and his lips dragged against the valley where hers met, and then he had pulled away just as quickly as he had attacked.

George sat in astonish as he pulled away and off of her, releasing her arms. He gave her one penetrating look with those mesmerizing eyes before turning and walking away silently, melding into the shadows and then disappearing from her sight or senses. She was still shaking from the fright of the experience the sudden excitement of the brash and forward kiss. She could still feel his mouth on hers, scrapping against it hard, and then leaving as quickly as it had brought that scorching heat. She glanced to where he had disappeared to before chucking her shank angrily at a corner, hissing that it wasn't any good, before storming into her cell. She pushed the image of the enigmatic and now painfully attractive killer, focusing only on the fact that she had just gotten her ass handed to her, molested, and was now being offered a way out of here.

She bit the edge of her thumb questioningly. What would he get out of this deal? She knew as well as anyone that criminals such as herself and Riddick didn't do anything unless there was something of value up for them, something they could claim at the end of a job. She wasn't stupid. Then why did she feel like a complete and total idiot!?


	4. Chapter 4 Stages

**Chapter four: **

**Stages**

Riddick crouched low within the confines of the vent, his breathing slow and hidden. He stared down and out of the shaft through the small, barred air conditioning hole for the break room of the guards on this level, his eyes narrowing. There were a total of seven there, if he wanted he could just break in and take them all out, rush out the door… and then get attacked by around twenty other guards always standing watch at the elevator. Mentally cursing his luck for getting tossed into a prison that did not underestimate him he once again returned to watching those beneath him.

The seven that were here were the ones that usually started the fights with the prisoners in the double max. They were laughing, telling lame jokes, and each talking about their planes to do to the prisoners today, specifically some of the female inmates. The things that were filling Riddick's ears were making even the hardened criminal and murderer cringe. And he was the one being held against his will in this scum hole… right, that made sense. The fates had a funny way of showing him that they cared.

Settling down into a laying position, sustained by his palms, he watched as the scene beneath took place. They were speaking professionally now, about the different trouble makers and who should be reported to the warden for a personal punishment. Several names came up, ending with Ave, Georgie's little friend and groupie that followed her around everywhere like a lost puppy. Seemed that the girl had recently been caught with a few other aforementioned inmates over a guards corpse, kicking and yelling at him, each covered in the dead man's blood. Rage hit his nose like a train and he had to resist the urge to snort it out, keeping his cover and learning all he could was the most important thing of being what he was. Information was power, and power was what he needed to get out of Brigitus S.8. He'd already wasted enough time in here.

"Well, we don't know for sure if it was that Ave chick. I mean, there are four other female inmates on double max levels, any one of them could have done it!" a voice of one of the more moral guards interrupted, seemingly uncomfortable with the idea of submitting one of the females of the community to the rigors of their curator.

"Yea, especially that red headed one. What was that fucking bitches name again?" another one breathed, nursing a wicked looking black eye. Riddick felt a small leer come to his features, having seen the incident take place when Red had slugged this very guard for trying to feel her up when she was in her unit. He was lucky that he had kept his eye at all and retreated because the spit fire had reached for her blade and was going to cut him several new holes.

"Think she said her name was some guys name… Rick, Bob…"

"No, no, I think it was George, or Jefferson, or some random shit like that. A fucking hell cat that one, nearly took my ear off the other day when I was trying to talk to that Ave girl, told me to get lost before she really tried. I swear, she needs to come down off that damn high horse a hers!" two more guards were now joining in on the trash talking of Georgina, all of them muttering agreement to what this man had said.

Riddick did nothing but sit and watch, as he had done for hours at a time now. It was a miracle on their stupidity that he hadn't gotten caught yet, and it was also a miracle of their idiocy that he had managed to find the area that he needed the very girl they were talking about. Just up the shaft he was in the area got smaller to where he couldn't fit his bulky frame through and for once he had found himself cursing his strong, thick body. Beyond there, like most Slam's, was most probably the control room for the double max area. If he managed to get George through that small vent, take out whatever guards were there, and switch off the lights and the security, then he would get them both out of here with little trouble. There were a few kinks in his plan that he had to hammer out before he tried it though, even if now he had the red head in accord with him.

Finding nothing of value, and having watched the guards leave to join the others for their quarterly count of the convicts, Riddick started to make his way back down through the vent on his elbows and knees. He made little noise as he went, picking out areas where he could see had the strongest fortification to land his limbs upon, and never put his full weight upon anything that even looked like it could creak. Going through the dark metal corridor was no issue for him, he knew it like the back of his hand now. Making a swift turn to the right he ended up with a dead end that really, if he just kicked the wall like he was doing now, ended up in his new personal chambers.

Landing with a quiet thunk he pulled his goggles back over his eyes and swiftly hid his entrance again. It had been pure tactically thinking on his part as to where a dead end in the vents might end up, thin enough, to where he could slam through the wall and enter into the systems unseen. He had scoped out the entirety of the double max, even gone into areas that were rusted and precarious even for him, and had come across this place. In the back of the chamber there had been a dull, thudding noise every thirty minutes or so, which informed the killer that this was where the guards and faculty were running their systems so that they could stay comfy while the inmates sweated bullets. He was almost angry at that thought, again, for the fiftieth time, but told himself that was how Slam's worked. They weeded out the weak from the strong and even then, more often then not, the strong were thrown into the pits below.

From all the prisoners he had seen over the last three and a half months half of them were new and then gone and then new again. This place had a harsh turn over and if he had not been a stronger man than he was, or like some of the other longer standing residents, then he would have gone along with them just from the conditions alone. Riddick, having found his way out, now stalked over to a corner and leaned against it, appearing inconspicuous as shuffling of boots filled his ears. Humans could really be so damn loud sometimes… he thought with a wrinkle to his nose.

Sure enough, a few minutes later, a whole squad passed by him, one of the men shinning a light right into Riddick's face, either to make sure it was him or to use his eyes weaknesses against him he couldn't be sure but Riddick knew that he wanted to punch the guy for trying that shit. The people here were so damn arrogant. They assumed just because he was in their prison that he was weak and defenseless, that he was nothing compared to them and their little guns. He had been trying to keep a low profile since entering here, and had been succeeding swimmingly, until one guy had been messing with him, pushing him, poking him with the butt of his gun, and shinning his damn flashlight in his face. Needless to say that the guy had his neck snapped and his head almost taken clean off from the help of Riddick's newly made shivs. He had made sure that the remains were no where to be seen, namely with the demons below, and had moved from his spot the second the corpse had been disposed of. But he had still gotten some people asking him about it, somehow, the next day. Luckily he hadn't repeated the process since entering his current 'home' and was situated comfortably for the next few weeks, confident that he was secure enough that he could fend off anyone or anything. Now it was just a waiting game.

He had toyed with her. His mind flicked temporarily to an image of George the second after he had kissed her, to how her cheeks her were a deep crimson and her brown orbs were wide and filled with puzzlement and slight offense. Now that he reflected on it there had been no need, no real drive, for him to do what he had done. He could have gotten her to work with him just by promising her freedom, something they both sorely wanted with all of their souls, and she would have come along just fine. There had just been something in that moment that had seized him in its icy talons and had screamed at him to do it, to give in to the animal that had been roaring in his ears. He had wanted to kiss her at that moment, not from affection, affection had nothing to do with this or with Riddick anymore, but for the pure carnal need to feel skin on skin, to feel that intimate momentary bond of lips mashed together and to feel her body tense up and that panic rise in her chest.

It had been intoxicating… To have her scent surrounding him and then to just lean in and capture those lips, for whatever period, as his, as no one else's, and then have that fear ripple through his body from hers was just so perfect. He'd almost forgotten what pure anxiety had tasted and smelled like.

He supposed that George was an okay looking girl for all simplicities of description. She was average height with a fit stature that spoke of her true trade and her religion of constantly keeping in shape. Her red hair was curly beyond belief, to the point of it being almost comical, and her skin was a scorched, sun kissed tone that came with the trade. Her brown eyes, though, were intense and fierce, sparking and smoldering, showing every twisted emotion that went through her at any given moment. She just was not his typical type. Then again, where would you meet a busty brunette with legs for days, long hair down to her butt, and a nice round ass, in this kind of place? No where… so he supposed that George was the next best thing compared to all of the others in this dump. It was an attraction of convenience.

But either way, he had left her there, in her little holding area, to think on what he had said. Had left her there two weeks ago and had thus let her stew and brood on the possibility of getting out of here in just a matter of weeks! How could she say no? Riddick, however, had decided to draw out the time of his second appearance into her prison life, had made the absence of his presence unnecessarily long just to get a rile out of her when next they met. He had enjoyed that one sided fight, as slightly pathetic as it had been, because she had not gone down in the first blow. She had managed to keep up with him to an extent and had even managed to mark him. Though he was proud to think he had returned the favor with many, many more. Georgie girl was undoubtedly angry by now…

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Bored. That one singular word was bad to her whenever it was around. Not only did it suck up any life she had it also took with her the ability to move lately and just loaf around in her cell for long periods of time, sharpening her shank down to an impossibly thin edge that could cut through steel if traveling fast enough. Boredom brought its dangers as well to George, because those were the moments when she would start to reflect on her past, on her people, and on things that should stay buried forever. She had even tried to count all of the people she had killed over the years, idly getting to twenty before the faces started to blur together, the blood started to become an acrid perfume, and she was force to give up her little game. Boredom was like a lover to George in this place, it would drape itself across her, hold her tightly, and wouldn't let go for hours on end even if she was trying to do something of interest. Like stalking the resident paranoid mess Luke, who thought that she was after his kidney and spleen to sell to Ave, of all people, where she would use it in some voodoo ceremony to summon a dark angle to kill the entire universe.

Luke was funny. Times like this were also dangerous because, over the last two weeks, she had something of value to think on. Or rather… obsess on. Riddick's offer, or rather, statement. She wasn't sure if he was just rubbing it in her face that he was planning a way out or not. He had, by all means, not told her if she was invited in on the attempt that was going to happen, and had only alluded to the fact that she might play some role in it. He could just be pulling her string and just robbing her of what little hope she had left for the kick of it. God knows the guy was a screwed up fruit loop. Who wasn't though…?

If he was serious then why hadn't he shown up in the last two weeks? She had gone hunting for him, sure, but she knew as well as he did that he would not be found unless he wanted to be, and so the two day hunt had been abandoned and given up for waiting, helplessly, to come and find her. She hated her life. So she had waited, and waited, and those hours had bled into days and then weeks, where it was spent like this, sitting, brooding, and now trying to figure out what the hell had possessed him to kiss her in that moment. Then again whoever actually managed to figure out how Riddick worked should be institutionalized and should be locked up for the rest of their lives for their own safety.

And if Riddick was serious then that meant she was going to taste free air at some point, if the fucker ever showed his face. She would be able to go about her life as if this never happened and as if she had never met the guy, all would return to normal. Minus one squealer of an informant… oh she hadn't forgotten about Trey, not at all. Here in the Slam grudges had a way of boiling and festering the point where they were oozing wounds that were begging to be chopped off, just like George was going to chop off his head the second she got her hands on him and a nice sized axe. On second thought, a shovel! A shovel would work nicely, nice and blunt and messy, his death would be slow and tortuous, and once she hit the spinal column he would not be able to do a thing about it. Oh sweet release of releases, euphoria equal to that only of death itself, it would be her greatest work yet! She couldn't remember when she had been this mad at a particular person in a long time.

But that still left what Riddick wanted for getting her out of here. There were many holes in his offer, or statement. One was, what did he need her for, if he needed her at all? And if he didn't, then why take her at all? Why not simply run for yourself, like he had always done at all of the other Slams in recent memory? What was his price? Was it something trivial like her jacket, which he still had, the bastard, or was it something of more value, like say, being able to sell her to the highest bidder at a slave trade? Now yet that was stretching it, even a guy like Riddick wouldn't do something like that… Would he?

George hated being alone in times when her inactivity gripped her like a vice. So she was almost relieved when the form of her Ave came into the door and interlaced her arms into the bars, grinning down at her. Raising her head from its position against her arms the red haired woman regarded the teen expectantly, her eyebrows raised.

"Yes?"

"Oh, nothing… I've just heard a rather tasty rumor," Ave said with a sweet smile towards the older female.

"Happy day, you have made my life worth living with your word of mouth and nonsensical hearsay," George spat and waved her hand. Though she was bored she would not stand for gossip of any kind near her, it more often than not proved pointless and futile to listen to and the great majority of the times not true. She preferred if her informants at least bothered to get their stuff right rather than just spout it from their lips like a virtual fountain for all to hear, adding things as they went along to increase the scandal.

Ave snickered and stretched against the bars before saying, "ah, see, I knew you'd say that. However, you see, this little tidbit has to do with you…"

George sat straight up at that, her lips firming up. She turned to the blond with a curt look, her hands now resting on her crossed legs and her head inclined to listen better. "Really? This is news," she whispered.

Ave laughed and nodded before coming to lean in the doorway of her partners cell, glancing it over momentarily before running a hand through her hair. She put her hands on her hips and began in a sing song kind of manner, "it's about you and the other new guy… what was his name? Rid_dick_?"

George this time growled low in her throat, coming to a standing. She came close to Ave, unwaveringly, to where her shoulders were brushing against the others, and demanded in a harsh yet interested tone, "what kind of rumors would those be?"

The blond tittered a laugh again as she stared down the harder of the two, cocking her head to the side. "That you and he are _partners_ if you get my drift."

"Drift, what drift?" George asked, blinking a few times in confusion. The other just chuckled in her face before patting her on the head, shaking her own in disappointment. Swatting the younger girl away George sighed under her breath and looked out into the ring around her, firming up her shoulders and making herself look more like the threat that she was rather than a prison rat.

Something made George suddenly shiver and she turned to Ave with a dangerous gleam in her eyes. Glancing from the shadow to the girl and back again she ordered:

"Get out of here."

"What? Why?! I haven't done anything! I haven't been spreading that around, it's some old geezer!" the girl complained by Georgina had already pushed her out into the corridor of falling cords that lead away from her area and into the prison populace.

When she had gone the female once more turned towards the shadows that hung around her compartment like a drape, clinging to every surface no matter what light was shone upon it. George scowled harshly, crossing her arms under her chest and trying to suppress the hairs that were once again rising on her arms and neck. She was starting to realize that this almost petrified feeling only came when he was around, that her body was warning her that Riddick was near by and to keep her defenses on high. "Who's there?" George questioned, her fingers flexing nervously against her tank top.

"You forgot already? I feel insulted," she started and turned to her immediate right, reflexes having her shank in her hand by the time she had gotten the full view of the man next to her. Sure enough, there, somehow having appeared without her even seeing or sensing him for a second, was the hulking, bald, goggled form of Riddick. She shivered when she could feel his eyes give her the once over from within the confines of those blackened shields before throwing her jacket at her, a noticeable chunk missing; namely both of the sleeves.

Catching it as if it were an after thought, never taking her eyes off of this enigma and inhumanly fast male before her, she took only a second to register the damage. Her eyes widened then narrowed, her jaw dropped, and her speech was robbed from her very chest, leaving her only to splutter her rage at it being injured so. The sleeves were completely gone, and not in a neat nice little tear, no, but ragged and harsh to where there were frays coming off of the leather and stitches. Her heart clenched and her entire shape was awash in hot, rueful waves. She turned the coat this way and that but no matter how many times she did it didn't magically make the mend and it didn't magically make the coat full again. Her teeth were now gritting together angrily and she shot him a dark, deadly glare.

"What the fuck happened to my jacket?" she snarled and flung it around and then emphasized to the torn off sleeves with a malignant look.

All Riddick did was to hold up two new make shift shiv's that glittered viciously in the limited light of her area. He twirled them around for a second before returning them to his sides, keeping a close hand at them in case she decided to attack him yet again. Even though she had been no match with him and his bare hands the fact that he now had his favorite weapons more or less made her cringe and toss the ruined garment into the cell, grumbling under her breath forebodingly. "It went to a good cause," he breathed in that deep gravely voice tha sent her spine into a shudder.

George had to hold in her snap but instead just took a deep, vindictive breath through her nose, throwing her arms behind her head. She rested against the door, her back being bitten into by the bars, but was too intent on Riddick before her, once again taking in his appearance with a speculative glance. He was, if possible, stronger than he looked, it had been no wonder that she had lost to him. Her lesson in humility those two weeks ago had not gone over well, in fact she had picked unnecessary fights left and right to get her confidence in her skills back up and to assure herself that she could kick anyone else's ass. It was just this dude that she was a pathetic little girl against. And it drove her crazy that he had been toying with her the entire fight, just from how he had pinned her to the wall she could tell he had been holding back. But why…? She was really the only threat in the entire prison, if she could be called that, so then why let her live? It didn't make sense.

Riddick and she stared each other down for a few seconds, neither blinking, holding gazes she assumed through his goggles, and she felt she had once again been drawn into an undeclared battle. Once again, just by his overpowering presence, she was forced to look away with a grunt and spat down onto the ground, running a hand through her newly wetted hair. "What do you want?" she demanded harshly, losing a bitter taste in her mouth.

She listened intently as Riddick moved from his spot and came to stand before her, tilting his head slightly so that her gaze had no choice but to come up to his at his challenge. When she once again was forced to look away, feeling like he was dominating her just by being close to her, she let out another frustrated noise, not used to being put in her place so soundly. It wasn't until she was once again looking at him with no flare or demand in her gaze that he even spoke. "Same as you, Georgie," he commented. His deep voice reverberated in her and she snorted slightly to try and get the sensation from her body.

"Okay… so did you come here to rub this in my face or to offer me a way out with you? And once again, what's the catch, Riddick?" she asked with venom dripping off of her voice, once again getting annoyed at this guys aloof and evasive way of talking. If he wanted to hold a conversation at least try to hold one with more than a sentence of five or six words at a time! The more a person talked the more she had time to read their structure, find weaknesses, mannerisms, and learn just about everything about them. The fact that he was so secluded only made things for her worse.

Riddick once again chuckled before stepping back from her and crossing his arms. He seemed to take up the entire space around him, his personality bigger than life, and his mere aura of confidence was pressing at every single thing around, even her. She shifted uncomfortably, not used to such prowess, and watched him warily. "Why else would I be here?" he questioned with a mocking tone that she didn't like.

George waved her hand dismissively, glowering despite herself. Why was it that he wanted to make her feel like she was the stupidest thing on the face of this planet? Did he want her help or not! "I dunno, you're the crazy killer here, not me," she muttered.

"Not from what I've heard," Riddick breathed and was near her again, his breath against her hair before walking on towards the corridor to glance out of it skeptically. From her silence and the strained sense of the air he chuckled inwardly before continuing, "you're a twisted little sociopath… you're just like me."

"Now that I doubt!" George snapped incredulous yelp.

Riddick gave her a withering look, surprising through his goggles, leaned against the ceiling, showing off the bulk of his muscles to the red haired woman. "Believe what you want, princess," he muttered before the air around him suddenly sparked with seriousness. "Now, are you in or out?"

George furrowed her brows for a second. She wanted to get out of here more than she could say; this place was just cruel, much more so than most of the other Slam's she had been in that at least kept her on her toes. This place was just boring, they didn't release the monsters nearly often enough, only once every month, and even then she just had to kick her door closed and she was safe. This place held nothing that could hold her here, and yet she had yet to find a place out of this tedious mess of rotting metal, cords, platforms, and human bodies. Freedom sounded much sweeter than anything she could imagine, even sweeter than a donut of any kind, and yet she couldn't help but sense a small catch in this. She felt a leer crease her lips before she could stop it, showing her pleasure at once again feeling the sun, the thrill of the hunt, and of being on the run and constantly on the look out for her own ass. Oh god it would be heaven to be out there again. "Depends… what are you getting out of this? You aren't doing this out of the kindness of your heart," she said in a sweet voice, putting her hands on her hips and regarding him with interest.

Riddick stopped in his tracks of pacing around the area and making sure that they weren't being listened to. He stared at her from the corner of his goggles, his face not changing save for a pulse in his jaw, showing he had gritted his teeth momentarily. That was a good question. Other than he needed her to get through that small area there was no real reason for bringing her along, and therefore there was no real reason for him to be offering this to her. With her head cocked to the side like that, her still damp, manageable hair curling over her shoulders and her brown orbs filled with sparking curiosity, he knew what he wanted. Before she could react he was on her again, like two weeks ago, pinning her arms above her head and breathing against her face evenly.

George wasn't as shocked this time but that didn't change the sudden shift in atmosphere. She stared at him with a slightly pursed look while he cocked an arrogant eyebrow, as if it was obvious. She tensed slightly when his face buried itself into the crook of her neck, taking her scent deep into his sensitive nose while the sensation of his breath there caused her back to arch and a small noise to escape her lips. Fingers now gripping into his she rolled her head slightly to the side to bear her neck more to him, fucking sick of thinking on why the hell something was happening and content to just let it run its course. For all she knew this was just a game to him…

Riddick let out a pleased growl when she submitted to his search of her smell before grabbing a tuft of her hair and bringing it back to make her arch her neck and stare him straight into his goggle covered eyes. The abrupt arousal that was wafting off of her again hit him hard in the chest and he had no choice, like he had not two weeks ago, but to press his lips to hers hard and fiercely, closing the gape between their bodies. He felt her stunned orifice unyielding against his, but he didn't care, instead he bit at her lower lip, growling again like the animal he was while one hand released her wrists and was now skimming her shirt bottom teasingly. There was nothing to do about this. He knew better than to pass up a woman he was this attracted to because then he would obsess himself with her. This way, if he purged himself of it while he was here, in the slam, it would stay here and they could go about their lives. He wouldn't let this go on as far as he allowed it with Fry.

George finally melted into his body and opened her mouth when his once again insisted, moaning when his tongue came thrusting in without apology. Her breath caught in her chest at his forwardness, not even bothering to ask for consent but going for it full on. She liked that, that brashness, that boldness, that inconsideration, and just going on with something anyway bull headedly, it was so damn striking that she felt the instant pool of heat in her stomach. Not content to just be conquered she fought back with her own tongue, tilting her head to the side and joining in on the carnal, purely animalistic endeavor. This way… she wouldn't be bored anymore.

Riddick pulled away quickly, leaving her to gasp for air, before he was down on her again, his hand now pushing up her top to where half of it draped off of her left breast. She groaned from their joined mouths at the sudden attack of air on her rapidly heating skin, pushing her toned stomach into his giant hands eagerly. He could feel her shiver under his fingers as they traced up and down her scar littered skin, her tongue never letting up on his even though he was very clearly the winner in the war of mouths.

He left her stunned however when he unexpectedly pulled completely off of her and left her there, panting. George's fierce and perturbed stare caught his as he waved a finger at her, nearly humorously, then a sneer formed on his lips. When she was about to ask him what the hell he was doing, her face flushed and her body drenched in sudden, painful awareness to his own and everything around her and her core screaming for more of his touch he merely turned and started to walk away. Walk fucking away!

She was speechless, she couldn't even begin to form words that were going through her head. It was as if when he had kissed her senseless he had done just that, had made it to where she couldn't fight back when he just decided he'd had enough and wanted to leave like the arrogant ass hole that he was! Gripping into the bars and glowering deeply she could only be filled with the kind of befuddlement that came when one was dragged along and then dumped off. "What the hell?" she hissed at him, pulling herself up, not even aware that her knees had slightly buckled under the unexpected regain of weight.

Riddick didn't say anything but merely walked back out of the corridor, making her gape after him. George threw up her arms in agitation, swearing several versions of his death at her hands, what she would do, how his face would look when slowly being impaled from his dick all the way out of his mouth! She turned around and hung from the bars, leaning against them heavily and letting out shuddering breaths, her body heated and beyond sensitive to any touch, her chest heaving with sudden stimulation and then having it ripped heartlessly away. What the hell was that!?

Riddick, on the other hand, merely chuckled as he walked away, listening to her raging and her swearing, basking in the way that her scent swirled and spiked when she was pissed off. The hunt after all was half of the fun. It all came in stages, it was all a play that would come to the concluding grand finale where he would get what he wanted, until then, he would toy with her until she was so bothered and stimulated she came to him and not the other way around. Not that he thought it would take long… Georgie struck him as the kind of girl that didn't want to wait to get what she 'needed'.


	5. Chapter 5 The game

**Chapter five: **

**The game**

George gnawed at her thumb sides anxiously, glaring at the wall. She had come here to think, but strangely enough, to think lately she needed to be around other bodies. And so she had come here, to where most of the double max prisoners congregated to talk smack, strategy, sell random shit they had come across, barter for sex, and what's worse, gossip, gossip, and more gossip. But here, she was safe. Here she could think in peace without having to constantly look over her shoulder to make sure the very guy that she was now obsessing over wasn't right there, staring at her, like he had taken up to doing. Or… what she thought he had taken up to doing.

She had thought, on some odd occasions, that when she looked up from her cell and stared out into the shadows around her, that she would see his glowing, eerie eyes piercing into her very being. She kept telling herself that it was just her getting paranoid and delusional, that it was life of the Slam that was warping her mind, more so, into something even more morbid and perverse. If she wasn't careful she would end up like Luke. So, after having enough of the feeling of constantly being watched she had stalked towards the gathering point on the fifth ring with Ave and the other inmates to lounge around and wither in the stifling heat and body odor that was their life. Currently the red haired woman was lounged out on a stretch of metal that she supposed had once held a bed and was staring up at the ceiling above her, lost in thought but still excruciatingly aware of her surroundings. Here she was safe, here she could think, and here she could start to dispel whatever rumors were floating around about her that the others had concocted. Not that she cared… but it would be better if the guards didn't catch on that her and Riddick might be planning an escape attempt or were together in anyway at all.

Humility was a painful pill to swallow. She was the prey in this twisted relationship. She was his to toy with because she had no choice, she was the mouse and he was the humongous lion that had just decided that she would be fun to mess with and swat around. Only this wasn't mere swatting, no, this was confusing her sexual needs, coming around, pinning her to something, making out with her like her saliva was the only thing he had to drink for days on end, and then vanish, leaving her flustered and confused. She was nothing, she couldn't stop it anymore than any of the guards could stop him in a hand to hand fight. And she was pretty damn sure that she didn't want it to stop.

She was no child. She was a grown woman who had been with more men than she could count; it was part of the job after all. Use your feminine whiles and you could get a man to tell you anything just about, especially if you promised a suck here and a fuck there. She considered her body a tool just like her gun, the things that she had in her belt up in the depository with the damn warden, and the metal biting into her hip and causing a new scar. If she happened to actually be attracted to the guy then they both got pleasure, she got information, and sometimes, she killed the guy afterwards like she was supposed to, then so be it, she wouldn't argue. It all worked out in the end in Georgina's world when it was like that. But Riddick, oh he was a different story. She was so used to being the dominator in all of her other encounters that being put into a submissive role like this was baffling and foreign, to the point where she almost didn't' recognize the foreplay as foreplay at all but tomfoolery and trickery. She recognized the signs though, oh god did she recognize the signs. The fact that he had even dared to lift up her shirt like that was one of them, that he had been so aggressive was another, and the mere feel of his eyes whenever he looked at her sometimes was like he was starving and greedy.

She also was devastatingly conscious of the fact that she was now so attracted to the man she couldn't think straight when he was around. It wasn't anything to do with affection or gentleness or whatever the hell a real relationship revolved around, like the grand total of four she'd ever had. No… this one was carnal, primitive, almost violent and possessive. She was merely physically drawn to him, powerfully, and she was getting to the point where she was holding back considerably to not just jump on him every time she saw him. It was pathetic. It was stupid. And it was weak. She was going to break herself of this before it broke her and had her at his feet like some little slave girl, begging for a good fucking. She would die before she submitted to the will of someone else.

"George?" George ignored Ave's voice and instead drifted father into her thoughts. She didn't know what it was about Riddick that suddenly had her wanted to rip his clothes off and do the nasty with him. He scared the shit out of her for fuck's sake! Maybe it was in that fear, that anxiety, that laid the innate attraction that wouldn't leave her alone.

When someone just about rolled her off of the ring and into the darkness waiting below she wheeled around, bringing her arms out and wrapping firmly around the assailants neck, holding them in a choke hold. It was only when she caught the familiar sight of dingy blond hair and the girls now nearly black tank that she let Ave go with a start. Whapping the now frightened teen upside the head she leaned back. "What?" she snapped, glancing around quickly to make sure that her assessment of Riddick had been right. She had never seen him anywhere near large gatherings of people, it was like he was allergic to such numbers and steered clear of them like they were the plague. It was her saving grace if only for a few hours.

"You've been all spacey since we got here. Aren't you going to at least try and be sociable?" the teenager demanded, pouting pathetically at her.

George blinked a few times, hoping she had heard the child wrong, but when all the girl did was stare at her like this was a valid reason for nearly killing her she slapped her palm to her forehead. Sometimes she wondered where all the common sense in the universe had gone… People were just getting more and more foolish with each passing day, and sadly, lately, she included herself in this increasing fray of blithering buffoons. Why else would she suddenly want to let some guy with glowing eyes and a murder rap a mile wide have his wicked way with her? She was just suffering from temporary prison insanity. It happened all the time, that was the reason why guys that were perfectly straight started to do it with other guys while in the Slam, because the girls refused and so they had to bend their sanity a little to get relief. It was just her luck that Riddick happened to be the only guy in the entire double max that interested her… yep, insane, crazy, doomed to die!

When Ave moved to shove her again George shot her a dirty look before running a hand through her hair cautiously. "I've just been thinking. And I won't be sociable if I don't want to, that's how the universe works, Ave," she corrected stoutly, causing the younger to scowl at her. How her and Ave were still friends, or whatever the hell this abusive relationship is, was beyond George's grasp of comprehension.

"Well, you think too much. Lord knows what goes on in that twisted little head of yours, so why not get out of that funk you've been in and allow yourself to actually enjoy the company of others?"

"In a prison?"

Ave paused for a few moments, staring at George. Then, she slowly realized the point of view for which the red haired woman had expressed and sighed, sinking onto the metal platform her friend was perched on, and stared out at the mass of other bodies. She twiddled her thumbs a moment before coming up with a retort, "well, it's all the company we have. We have no choice but to try and…"

"And what? Make friends with people that would slit your throat in your sleep if this was the outside world? Do horrible things to you if they managed to get their hands on you? They sound like very good acquaintances to me," George stated bitterly and glared at the heads that were around her. It was true, she didn't trust anyone period, but she trusted fellow criminals even less. It was like giving someone Pandora's Box all over again and telling them not to open it, that it was theirs forever, and not to do anything at all to it. Look what had happened the first time.

Ave looked indignant but held her tongue and crossed her legs. She cocked her head to the side and observed her partner, "so are the rumors true or not?"

The abruptness and the crassness of the question caught Georgina off guard and she looked at the other girl as if she had grown a second head with antlers and large bug eyes. Her mouth opened and closed, confusion written on her face. She had no idea that the girl was still locked onto this notion that she and Riddick were 'friends' or whatever the rest of the population thought them to be. When she found her tongue again the older killer said sharply, "what rumors are those again?"

"See? You don't deny it!"

"Yes, but I don't confirm it either!" George defended, coming to a standing and glaring down at her younger counterpart. She was lucky that George found the girl so endearing otherwise she would have just left her to fend for herself long ago, and then who knows what might have happened.

"Are you and the scary bald guy going at it like bunnies??" Ave suddenly asked in a gleeful whisper, her eyes shinning with interest and perverse curiosity.

George raised her eyebrows at this but just looked away and stared down the entrances to the lounging area they were in. She couldn't very well confirm it, cause it wasn't true _yet_ but she couldn't deny it cause there was something going on there that was more than occasional popping his head into her cell. Rubbing the back of her neck she stated as quietly as she could, "No."

"Awwww! And here I was hoping for some gory details!" Ave whined and plopped down onto the metal stretch, putting her hands behind her head. George looked at her skeptically but finally just shrugged and jumped from the metal stretcher before putting her hands into her pockets and surveying the area. Frowning at what she saw she turned to her friend and waved, muttering a quick 'later' before starting off on her way towards where the trickle of water had been keeping her as clean as it could for the past five months.

She felt filthy. She couldn't think of anything else over the last weeks besides the fact of how the oil and grim felt sickening on her skin, weighing it down, making her gag every time she touched her own arms. What she wouldn't give for an actual shower, with running hot, scolding hot, water that would tear at the dirt that covered her body and make her clean again. Shampoo, oh lord she would kill for some shampoo. She had heard rumors amongst the other prisoners that there was, indeed, a waterfall somewhere on this level that had started to break through from the upper single max, but unfortunately they weren't telling her were it was located.

So she was forced to come here, to this dingy little place. This was what, she supposed, had been the shower room back when the prison wasn't quite so completely and totally uninhabitable. The shower head just above her hadn't worked, she surmised, in over sixteen years from the rust and over all decay of the once shiny metal pipes. Instead, where the water came from, as she padded over the broken tile, was from a broken pipe just over head where it probably ran to where the guards were stationed at all times and where it was filtered and made into good drinking water. George could only guess how much crap lived in this brown mess of liquid, but then again, she was one of the lucky ones. Before she had been brought into here she had gotten immune system boosters that would make it impossible for her to get sick over the next two years… and a handy dandy little implant in her uterus to where she would not get pregnant or even have her period for a good six. Looking back on it now she wondered just how much foresight had gone into her getting those things mere weeks before her capture.

It was useless to brood on how or why she had been found, though she knew just who had given her away, the slimy bastard, and so she stripped off her sleeveless jacket and threw it to the floor. She had become disenchanted with the thing ever since Riddick had been the ass hole and had used it to make the leather grips of his shivs. Now the thing was useless and didn't serve a purpose of any real kind. When she got out she would have to buy a new one for the first time in ten years. That coat had seen a lot with her… she mused as she shook her hair from its pony tail and stood under the cascading, narrow stream of tainted liquid, letting it run down her mass of frizzy red curls. It had seen fight after fight, been shot through just as she has been, been stitched up more times than she could count, and even been burned a few times by a stray item from her belt. The damn thing was like her oldest friend.

Damn Riddick… she thought with a low rumble in her chest. She moved her head to the side and let the water trickle down her clothing, wetting them and her skin at the same time, revealing in the small feeling of temporarily getting clean before it was replaced by whatever shit was in this water. Turning around she lifted her hair and shivered when it passed down her spine icily, making her suck in a quick breath. George never was one for a cold shower… they were a waste of time and made you start to clatter.

Sighing she held herself up by her hands gripping onto a thick cord hanging from the ceiling, closing her head and raising her head to where it washed against her face. Showering with all of your clothing on was something that she didn't like to do but in this place you couldn't be too careful; she didn't want to have to part with her shank for any reason whatsoever. Rolling her head back she closed her eyes and felt the water wash down her neck and back into her tank top, down her stomach and into her cargo's. She wondered idly how long it would be until she was able to wash her clothing and get a good, real, scrub down shower. Until then…

George growled in frustration as she turned and put her hands above her head, staring at the stall wall across from her, her lips in a firm line. There was an ache that had settled in the pit of her stomach ever since she'd first begun this little… game… with Riddick, and it wouldn't go away. She knew what the hell it was, she was twenty five after all, but this was just fucking ridiculous. Deciding to hope against hopes, that this time it would finally make it go away, she glanced around stiffly before snaking her hand down her own stomach and into her pants. She gasped very slightly when her fingers found the junction between her legs, wincing at the surge of pleasure that wracked up her body harshly.

She thought she had taught her body to be able to suppress urges like this when she was in mission mode, but it apparently had other ideas. George let out a soft moan when her palm scraped up and down her sex, her breathing starting to come in slight pants. Her calloused index finger lashed against her clit in practiced expertise, her biting her lower lip in concentration. Running the digit around the painfully pert appendage she let out another frustrated groan before unbuttoning her pants and bringing her other hand to where its fingers grazed against her already soaking opening.

Brown eyes rolled up into her head and a small smile came to her lips when finally she inserted a finger into herself, her back arching quickly. She panted and rolled her head slightly backwards, rubbing back and forth with an insistent finger over her clit, causing the sensitive skin to heat to unbearable levels. Sliding her middle finger in and out of her slicked opening she inserted another one, determined to get this over as fast as possible incase any perverts were watching her. But instead of the rapid building of the coil of heat within her like she was used to it began to burn slowly, twisting and turning uncomfortably until she had no choice but to voice her irritation with a growl, thrusting her fingers more firmly into herself.

Pants soon became quiet, soft moans as her hips began to twitch and move against her rough hands. Her senses were clouded over and all that mattered was the tightening in her stomach to where her legs were taught and flexed hard to the point of pain. Holding her breath George pushed in another finger and almost yelped at the pulse it sent up the small of her back, her head jolting back. Her clit was now thoroughly abused as she pulled it from its sheath and began to rub it against her other hands palm hard, causing a sensation so jolting that the bottom of her feet tingled as if they were going to sleep. "Oh, fuck," she swore and clenched her eyes hard, gritting her teeth.

She was forced to lean against a wall as he knees became steadily weaker, her fingers now working at an almost harried pace. Her chest heaved with moans and whimpers that were lifting from her chest of their own will, her nipples hard and at stand from the cold water and abrupt arousal. Hips sliding over her palm and fingers pumping in and out she let out a small cry when the coil in her tightened another degree to where it was painful and blinding. George's red hair was plastered to her face, her clothing glued to her form, and when the something that had been building within her shattered she yelled and tossed her head back hard to where it slammed against the wall. Convulsions, starting from the inside of her thighs and from deep within her now rushing opening, wrapped their way up her body to where she was nearly thrashing. Her vision was filled with sharp, deadly looking stars, her hearing rushed over with blood pounding through them; she could hardly think straight. All that mattered was now gripping onto the wall around her, breathing hard and heavy, her legs nearly collapsing under her when the fit passed and the searing in her stomach receded for the moment.

"Shit…" George whispered and brought shaking and dirty hands to close her pants with a firm snap of the button. Pulling up the zipper was more of a chore than she could have thought in those moments and so she slid down the jagged wall, ignoring the small bursts of pain from her shoulders, and sat down on the ground with a breath of gratitude. It would take a minute or two for her thoughts to collect enough to even think of going anywhere much less risk other prisoners either seeing or smelling what activity she had just done to herself. Though… her eyes fluttered open for a moment from their exhausted closed position and glanced around slowly. She knew she was being watched at this point now. Fuck it, she growled to herself and merely basked as long as she would permit in the afterglow of her orgasm.

Riddick shifted against his shadows, staring intensely upon the scene that had just taken place before him. His breathing was shallow but not enough to be heard and his body was covered in slight goose bumps. The hardened criminal watched as she sat there, almost crumpled, head leaning on one of her shoulders while her chest heaved, up and down, causing her soaking shirt to show all the movements effortlessly. Her scent was now dark and heady around him, making his head whirl, his body tighten, and his manhood now press urgently against his stomach and hard as a rock. He had not been expecting to see this when he had followed her to the water station…

She had run from him. George had been getting paranoid, glancing outside of her cell every few minutes and scanning the shadows around her nervously, thinking for sure that he was out there watching her. And though she had convinced herself that she was just being idiotic she should have trusted her instincts, for he had been stalking after her for the past three days. He was interested in seeing what her reaction to the constant scrutiny of him and she had done something that had surprised him. She had gone up with her little friend up to the fifth ring of the double max, the one place he wouldn't be caught dead in. Too many people often spelled trouble when it came to him, so he had waited on the outskirts, watching silently while running his fledgling plan over and over in his mind. Today was going to be the day that he was going to tell her his plans for getting out of his hell hole, a plan both of them wanted.

He had been getting irritated by her continued presence among the other inmates, his eyes narrowing and his jaw clenching lightly. She was just lying there, staring up into space, doing absolutely nothing. He had watched the interaction of her and Ave for a brief second before George had stood and started to glare down at the younger, informing him that she was reaching her limit of being around a mass of people. It was amazing what you could learn from someone just by following them around for a good few days, really. She was a recluse, she didn't like the company of others, and though she stomached Ave he was fairly certain that over the last few days that the girls childish antics were wearing on the older woman's nerves. Though she could handle being in the midst of a crowd easier than he could, apparently, she had her limit before she started shouting.

Sure enough, he had watched Georgie wave at her friend and walk off towards where he knew the water source for the double max was located. This was what he had been waiting for… so he had walked after her, through the crowds that were staring at him with shock and awe at him. There were few around that had actually seen him in his months being here so to them this was a rarity that would probably never be repeated. Their stares lasted until he reached the dark that was where his prey had vanished into, wherein he was lost and they were now murmuring to themselves, he could still hear them. There were only two reasons to go to the water source, one was that she was thirsty and the other was attempting to bathe. It was almost impossible to receive an adequate wash from the filthy water that ran from that cracked pipe but he understood the need to at least feel like you were keeping up your hygiene. Maybe one day he would show her where the waterfall was located…

When he had come across the small stall area she was already pulling her hair out of its binding and walking towards the water with a purposeful stride. Riddick knew better than to hope she would divest of her clothing but was none the less disappointed when she had stepped under the water full clothed. Hiding stoutly within the darkness and keeping his senses trained on only the red haired woman before him he couldn't help but notice the twang to the air that came only with a certain kind of irritation. He watched her as she washed with little more than moving here and there to get the water to go down her back or her shirt and soon her clothing was sticking to her like glue. His silver eyes were fixated on her now revealed body and he had no choice but to grunt lightly though not loud enough for her to hear him over the constant pounding of water on the ground below. She was slim but muscular to the point where they formed curves against her bones, sculpted to deadly perfection. He caught sight of those scars again, those scars that told timeless tales of her time as a killer and whatever else the hell it was that she did.

Then she started to do something he had not expected but was pleasantly surprised to see. She grumbled under her breath for a moment before one of her hands disappeared down the front of her pants and almost instantly she shivered and let out a small noise. Riddick's body was suddenly tuned in to only the woman before him, he couldn't even hear the other sounds of the prison, and the way that her arousal, that same musky scent that told of her need, hit him in his chest like a freight train made him want to go over there and just throw her down and have his way with her. But he held back. He didn't get the opportunity of watching such a scene very often so he was not going to ruin it.

Riddick watched as George tossed her head back and moaned, her arm moving and the way that her pants were shifting informed him she was rubbing herself. Arching her back suddenly Riddick found himself wishing that her pants were just completely gone, that she was naked, and doing this to where he could _see_ it. Almost on cue she let out a growl and undid her pants, but they didn't fall, to his dissatisfaction, but instead hung on her hips as her other hand found its way in and her head rolled to the side. He was having a hard time holding himself back now. His own body was heating to the point of pain and he had to resist very hard not rushing her and throwing off her clothing. It was so damn erotic to watch this woman touching herself that his dick was growing harder by the second.

She was soaking wet now, both her body and between her legs, he could smell it thick in the air. He had watched as her hips began to jump and grind against her hand, her breathing becoming labored, and her eyes rolling into the back of her head. Her mouth opened and all that was escaping now was a constant stream of moans and soft cries that were driving him mad with blinding lust. But again, he kept in control of the animal still roaring in his ears. It would shoot his chances at getting her to come to him, not the other way around, and would set the tone of their work and fucking relationship. He was going to be the one in control here…

George had, during his thought train, shifted to where she was leaned against a wall. She was getting close, he could tell just in her body structure and how it was tensing. Her moans were growing steadily louder and her hips were now effectively grinding and thrusting back onto her fingers. With a jolt and a gasp she tossed her head back and hit it hard on the wall behind her, her hips stilling for a moment before they began to shudder and twitch violently. It had traveled up her body and clutched her in its grasp as her orgasm caused all new scents and sights to enter into Riddick and soon her found his hand traveling of it's own accord over his engorged manhood. His plans might need to be moved forwards slightly… he thought with a quirk of a smirk.

Then she had slid down the wall and was as she was now, panting and closing her eyes, a smile plastered on her lips. The smell of sex was the only thing that was in the room, it overpowered even the prisons natural stench and made Riddick close his eyes and relax in it for a moment. Telling her about his idea of getting out of here could wait, he concluded.

Then, with a snap, her brown eyes had come open and turned to where he was at. He knew that she couldn't see him, she was a human after all and it would take a shine job to make them able to pierce the inky black around him, but the way that her orbs were locked onto his despite that with such ferocity and determination made him wonder if she couldn't. There was a challenge in that stare that he couldn't avoid, a silent urging that made his cock throb and twitch slightly with anticipation. Without a second glance she had stood, zipped up her pants, and walked off with a slightly more propionate swagger of her female hips than before she had come into the stall.

With a growl Riddick opened up his own pants, pulling out his manhood that was ripping at him for attention and thrust his hand down the shaft, repressing a groan. His silver eyes were still on the area where George had disappeared though his mind had locked onto the image of her arching her back against the wall, moaning, and her hips shifting helplessly and instinctually against her skilled hands. Licking his lips momentarily he pulled his shaft up harshly and rumbled with pleasure in his chest, picturing all the things he was going to do to the red haired woman that had dared to challenge him, the Richard B. Riddick. Oh was she in for a shock…

George had sensed him watching almost from the moment her second hand had gown down her pants, but by then it had been too late. So, with a cocky after thought, she had decided that this would be to show just how far into the game that they were playing she was in for. If he wanted to tease her, taunt her, mock her, than she would do the same. She considered that little show back there the first step to whatever dangerous thing they were going about, and when she jumped from the fifth to the fourth, catching the hanging cords and swinging down with a soft thud she smiled to herself. Two could play it that way, Riddick… let the games begin, my friend.


	6. Chapter 6 So close

**Chapter six: **

**So close… **

Riddick had stepped up his game since watching the girl in the shower mere days before. He knew now that there was no going back. It was like a silent dance, each of them sending out their own hints and shows while the other watched or listened, and then they would return the favor. She was giving him all the signals he needed, her little stunt of masturbating with him mere steps away had proven it, and he would be damned if he let such an opportunity pass him by. Not to mention he would not allow her to win.

So he had visited her once, when she was busy doing push ups and sit ups in her cell to keep her body in top shape. She had been startled and swung a leg up at him, to kick him in the neck, but he'd stopped the attack bluntly and had just held her leg there, staring down at her through his goggles, while she glared. When she had least expected it, after trying to yank her foot away many times before, he had released it and she had plopped down onto the ground from her own force. In a heartbeat he had been on her, or rather, above her, holding himself up by his toes and hands, while his lips had traced a line up her neck provocatively. She'd squirmed under him and let out a moan like grunt, trying to roll away and even trying to smack him. But the second she had shown aggression he had backed off and walked away, leaving a red line where he had bit at her leading towards her ear.

Then, there were moments when she was walking alone in the corridors of their now shared ring of habitation. Sometimes he swore she did it on purpose, to walk alone without Ave or even the psycho case Luke. It was perfect time for him to come up behind her, to do anything he wanted to her, to follow her without her hearing but watching the hairs on her neck stand at attention from the feeling of being watched. She was vulnerable when she was by herself… he was so much stronger than she was it was almost comical how easy it would have been to just shove her against a wall and do whatever the damn well he pleased. But he held back, like he'd been doing for weeks now, and merely watched her discomfort grow. It was moments like that when he would walk behind her to the point of them almost touching and then would whisper something in her ear, on her ear, to where she gasped and moved to slice him. Her blade always met with air, and this process would repeat every twenty minutes or so until she was either with someone else or she had sought refuge in her cage.

He was so close, so agonizingly close, to having her… The longer he stalked her the more he noticed the subtle things, and the more those things were pulling him into need. Her smell… oh gods her smell was the most intoxicating thing about her now. Whenever she was near, he could tell, and he was off in an instant, forgoing anything he had been doing to pick up where they had left off. He also found himself randomly stooping over her when she was sleeping to take in a big inhale of her scent from her neck, watching with pleasure when she would roll over in her slumber and swat at the air above her column. There was also the way that her hair seemed to reflect her as well. Her hair was wild, unruly, only bound in a leather tie and even then it was curled and rebelling. Deep red, almost like rusted blood, and the way that it bounced when she walked was in time with the way that her hips swayed and her ass jiggled just slightly. He couldn't wait for the day that he took that hair in both of his fists when he was screwing her into the ground… And then those scars… He wanted to know about them, well, wanted to know them really. Which ones were sensitive to the point of a mere glancing touch producing powerful reactions, and which ones were dead and gone. He wanted to know which ones to lick that would cause her to murmur and push into his touch.

If he wasn't careful he could accidentally end the match before he wanted to. He liked to play head games, he liked watching her stare at him with hatred and yet that familiar fire of curiosity, defiance, and lust all mixed into one seductive blend. What would it matter if he had to hold off of his own predatory satisfaction if in the end he got something much more satisfying than a good fuck? A worthy opponent that could hold her own against his taunting and would do anything to please him.

And so Riddick found himself walking after her again in the dark of the prison night, taking her almost ritual meticulous examination of the floor she lived on to make sure that no guards or any other inmates were capable of coming up on her in her sleep. She hadn't accounted for him though, as she almost never did, but then again she didn't know him and didn't know what he could do. She was once again padding ahead of him, her hands in her pockets and that damn shank ready and waiting on its home on her hip. Tonight he would once again raise the stakes in this little tit-for-tat and see if she could really handle what she had gotten herself into.

Her footsteps were achingly loud to his sensitive ears and when she stopped to glance over her shoulder with a small snarl there was a look on her face that he couldn't read. If she had caught onto his little stalking game she had made no moves to stop him, not that she could have. Maybe that was it… maybe she knew she couldn't do a damn thing and that's why she was so ornery and feisty. Riddick stilled and moved slightly into a wall as she walked a few steps back in the direction she had been leaving, her brows furrowed and her lip bitten in concentration. Her fingers trailed down to her weapon, her jacket shifting on her shoulders to where it revealed more of her long, strong neck. She was just a few feet from him, he could just reach out a hand and grab her. Oh that would scare her good… she would jump, shout, and then try to stab him. It would be so easy…

Riddick drew back a hand that had been trailing out of the dark towards George who had turned this way and back, her hands on her hips and her eyes feebly trying to break the dim lighting around her. He lowered his goggles down when her gaze swept over him, making sure his silver eyes did not glow unnecessarily in the dark. The red haired woman by now had drawn her weapon completely and was spinning it idly in her fingers, her breathing calm, but her heart… that heart was beating so fast and furious in her chest that he could almost feel it in his own chest. It was crashing through the silence around them and he cocked his head slightly to the side, a small smirk forming on his lips from watching Georgie freak slightly. She was scared. No, she wasn't scared. This was excitement, a perverse excitement that he could identify with as the kind that went through his body when he was against an opponent that might prove to be interesting, when facing the unknown. He could taste the adrenaline pouring from her veins.

With a slightly shaking sigh, though her body was perfectly stilled and relaxed, she continued on her way down the corridor, her shank still gripped tightly in her hand. Glory be to the human eyes and how weak they were in the dark… he thought with a smug glittering of is own orbs before starting off after her silently. He wanted her. He wanted her here and now and his mind was coming up with blanks as to why he was refusing himself when she was right there… so close. Her hair was brushing against his arm now, a stray strand that had broken from its ties and had come against him in a tickling graze. Taking out a shiv very slowly he reached out a hand and carefully took a few strands of her curly hair in his grasp, making sure to walk in step with her so as not to knock her over. He was reminded of when he did this very same thing with Fry when he sliced off his bounty and brought it to his nose. Inhaling deeply he paused momentarily to let the buzz set in that was now following whenever he breathed her in. George… he wondered what that was short for.

There were only a few names that were for a girl that was George. Georgia? No, she didn't look like a Georgia… she looked like she would beat anyone down who called her that. Georgiana? No, again that seemed too out of character, though it was similar. Georgina, that was it… that was her name. Though what was she playing at by calling herself a guy's name? Was it like Jack? Or was it for another reason?

She'd stopped again and he moved against the wall as a precaution, the woman already showing that she was inspecting her route to make sure that he wasn't there. Against the wall he held the strands of red to his nose again and wafted it in, watching intently through goggles as she now narrowed her eyes and shifted her shoulders uncomfortably. She could sense him on a primitive level; like anyone could if they just listened to their animal inside… she could sense his danger. She licked her lips curiously before crossing her arms under her chest and glancing down her corridor, her cell not too far away from contemplating her inspection of the other inmates, all ten, that lived on this floor. What was she up to now he wondered?

"Geez, I'm going crazy," she murmured and put a hand to her forehead, shaking her head tiredly.

Riddick couldn't help himself. He came up behind her, pushing through the air quietly, bringing his arms slowly around her as George continued to be deep in thought. She realized too late when the skin of his forearm brushed on her wrist and by then he moved in a flash and had her in a crushing hold. George became deliciously rigid against his chest, shifting her feet carefully while her breathing now came out in anxious pants. Smelling her shock, surprise, and fear at the unexpected action he leaned down to where his lips were just a breath away from her neck and stated, "Now that has already happened, Georgie…"

"Riddick!" she almost howled in indignation. She bucked against his hold to where he only tightened it, holding her in a vice until she stilled and growled warningly, her hands still gripping her shank. "Let go…"

"Way I see it; I should be making demands… I could squeezes you to death, you're so small and bones are fragile. It takes only twenty pounds of pressure on the ribs to make them snap," he said calmly. Her body suddenly went even stiffer and her breathing hitched to where it came out in small hissing noises. He could smell the fear seeping from her, it was cold and minty, and he could about taste it. He brought his mouth within a millimeter of her neck to have her gasp at the sudden sensation, her fingers now flexing against his arm, the threatening form of the shank still pressed between her digits. It wouldn't do much harm though; it was small compared to his massive form. It would take a direct hit to his organ to be fatal and considering that he was faster and stronger than her he saw little opportunity in ways of her freedom.

George let out another hiss like breath. He watched with fascination as her pulse pounded in the vein of her neck, rippling beneath the skin, pushing blood in and out. Riddick indulged himself in licking up the quickened beat and felt her relax then tense sharply, as if in defiance of whatever thought had crossed her mind. His lips momentarily closed over her ear, running his tongue along the shell before breathing into it. She made a small noise he couldn't define when his hot breath hit against the wetness he had left behind and Riddick smirked in satisfaction when she gritted her teeth and turned her gaze to him. Her pants hit him hard in the face and he had a hard time resisting the urge to kiss her again…

"What do you want…?" she murmured with that same glare of defiance in her brown orbs that could barely see his face.

Riddick laughed darkly at that, his entire body shaking with the force. Within seconds he had spun her around and had her pinned to the wall with her face against the dirty surface, her hands above her and his body pressing to her backside. He pushed his face into her hair while his hips now pushed hers up higher, where theirs were level, and listened to her grunt of surprise. "What does it look like, Georgie?" he demanded huskily, pushing her hips against the wall with his again only this time he grinded there for a few seconds before relenting.

George, to his satisfaction and minor astonish, smirked and moved to where her cheek was pressed against the wall, leaning back into him. "Really now? I didn't know you liked me that much, Riddick…" she teased jokingly. Riddick raised his eyebrows, concerned about this change of attitude.

But he pushed past it and took one hand off of her wrists to run down her stomach, pushing his fingers into her pant hem lightly. "Been a while since I smelled anything like you, girlie," he growled in her ear. He felt her shift under his weight, the skin on her stomach bunching up under his fingers as they traveled below her pants line. He was pleasantly surprised to find no underwear… "Georgie, you go commando? You struck me as a briefs kinda chick."

"That's it!" George suddenly snarled. She moved faster than he remembered her being, that or he was so preoccupied with being so close to where he wanted to be for months now that he didn't fully notice her leg sweep back while the other braced sideways on the floor. Her hands clenched against a cord that had been on the surface she was pushed against, and in a singular stabbing motion with the side of her foot to his alkalis tendon he was sent grunting to the floor with a heavy thud. He was stunned for a brief moment that she had managed to take him by attack like that only to feel the ice steel of her shank to his throat, her weight now situated atop of his chest. Opening his eyes from their momentary wince, his back now throbbing, he liked what he saw.

George was now straddling his chest with her weapon close to his throat, pressing right on the jugular, while her brown eyes were flashing murder. Her chest was heaving with harried breaths and he wondered just how quickly she had come up with that plan or if she had been thinking about it for a while now. Riddick brought his hands up beside his head in a slightly mocking motion of surrender while smirking at her. "Well, well, looks like you are a killer after all…"

"Shut up, pervert," Georgina whispered, her hair falling from its bond on the side to make it framed in frizzy red curls. She cocked her head to the side and regarded him skeptically; he could feel her eyes sweep momentarily over his broad chest in computation before she bit her lower lip. Obviously, sweet little Georgie girl hadn't thought of a plan after she'd pinned him like this. This was just too funny.

She pursed her lips a moment before pressing the sharp blade in harder to his thick neck. "Okay, I'm tried of this song and dance shit we got going here, Rid_dick_. You're planning a way out and I want to know what it is. Now!" she nicked his neck to prove her point, dragging it sharply across the skin enough to make as shallow cut. But it was enough, it was enough to make stinging red weep over the small incision and start to dribble down his neck in a thin barely there line, mixing with his sweat.

Riddick couldn't hold in the amusement and it spread to his lips in a small grin, his hands still raised next to his head. She was leaving so many holes in her defense, he could just grab her, knock her off of him, flip them over, and have his shiv to her throat within seconds and there wouldn't' be anything she could do about it. Then again, the blade could slip, she could cut him or worse, or… she could find a way to counter his flip. She had already surprised him once today, who knows; maybe she could do it again. Seeing her anger at his enjoyment of this he shrugged his shoulders, his goggled eyes never leaving hers.

"I dunno, Red. The knife to my throat is awfully distracting," he stated and watched as she winced and shook her head gruffly. Obviously it wasn't just him that noticed the position they were in.

"Riddick, don't play with me. I'm in this place for a fucking reason you shit head!" George stated in exasperation, rolling her eyes. When all that greeted her was silence she put her blade against the cut and made it just very lightly deeper, making the ribbon that had already dried flow in a wider trickle. He grunted and she shifted her hips to a more comfortable position, watching the blood run down with eager fascination. "Now who wants to be a good little ass hole and tell me what his fucking plan is? Could it rhyme with tick?"

Riddick moved quickly, grabbing her arms and bringing them snapping outwards with a growl, her shank flying from her grip from the abrupt pain of the blow. He surged forwards and moved his legs, swinging them around, and then was pushing her down in little more than a single fluid motion. Her back hit the ground with a soft thud, causing her to grunt with the force, before her arms were pinned under his legs and his shiv was idly playing with her jaw line. Brown eyes flashed dangerously, her expression that of a tell tale hatred. He nicked her jaw bone as she had scratched his neck and watched as a small drop of red seeped from the wound; she didn't even so much as flinch.

"Now see, Georgie," he ran his knife down her neck causing the red heads breathing to accelerate marginally but she didn't move or give any facial signs that she was threatened. In fact she looked bored. Riddick watched the knife leave a small red trail, inflaming the skin and confusing her body to thinking there was a wound when there was none, and watched the flesh around the blade quiver and break into chill bumps. "I'll tell ya when you've proved you are capable," he stated.

He couldn't help it. It was too easy, it was too tempting, and so, given that he had been so good and had not screwed her four ways till Friday already for the umpteenth time shifted backwards though making sure to have his hell cat's arms still under his massive legs. Abruptly, and without warning, Riddick's hand came behind him and latched between her legs, holding her there firmly. He felt George's hips arch in surprise and her entire body jump from the unexpected action. Her blazing gaze locked onto him and her mouth was open in a disbelieving gape. Riddick merely made a small humming noise and gripped her harder, listening when she let out that same noise as when he had attacked her ear. With her breasts heaving right in front of him and her defenseless pose, he couldn't pass this up and his shiv had made the trail from her neck to her breast and was now circling the fabric enticingly.

"Get your hand off of my crotch…" George growled warningly at him though she arched her hips again clear off of the ground when he gave her another small squeeze, her eyes shutting at the motion.

"But it's so soft," Riddick said in a mocking tone. He flicked his wrist and the tank top suddenly had a small gash in it along with her bra, and there was a very slight piece of her breasts flesh exposed to his hungry sight. George stared at him now with something else starting to cloud her brown orbs, something he knew very well. He could smell it thick and musty in the air around him, starting small, but he knew if he played his cards right every single prisoner on this level would be peeping at them from the scent alone. Riddick paused in his hand running back and forth against her junction through her pants to flick the button open and push his large fingers down. Tips meeting with slight curls he raised his eyebrows at her and that surprisingly caused her cheeks to flame a bright red.

"You didn't strike me as a rapist," George spat as she struggled again.

"It ain't rape if you're willing, hun," he growled at her before pushing his hand all the way in. Fingers met with the soft and hot folds that were shielded by her clothing and something in him roared with gratification at finally touching her. Sure enough when one digit probed beneath the surface, skimming the slit and causing the woman under him to squirm and let out a slight moan, he was met with that familiar sticky wetness that came with arousal. Making a small breathy noise he turned back to her after watching his hand disappear down her cargos, "aren't you kinky."

George snarled but tossed her head to one side, her embarrassment flaring on her face. Riddick ran his finger up and down her slit, watching her face twitch oddly whenever he passed just where he knew her clit to be. This wouldn't be fun if she didn't at least admit to liking it.

With a loud crack, however, momentary enjoyment and turn on's were shattered when her head connected with his. She rammed him full force, using every ounce of strength in her abs and legs, to bring her forehead to slam into his, causing an audible smack to form in the air around them. It was worth the significant pain she surmised as Riddick was sent sloping to one side, swearing and clutching between his eyes. She got her arms free with a valiant tug and swiftly punched him the jaw while he was distracted, causing his head to snap to the side and pain to flare throughout his neck and the area hit. Letting out a small battle cry she slugged him again, his mind still fogged over from the first head butt, and then bucked him off of her, reaching for her shank just feet away.

With it gripped in hand she rolled away from him then backwards somersaulted to a crouching, her breathing hard and her pants slipping just under her hips, showing off the nest of curls betwixt her legs. Riddick took a second to recover, having been tossed off like a bag of sand, and shook his head while rubbing his now sore jaw. The girl had a damn good right hook, he'd give her that… he glanced over his shoulder through his shields and saw her huddled there, her weapon clutched tightly while her entire body was taught and ready for the coming fight. He had underestimated her it seemed, he wouldn't let it happen again.

"You got more bite than I thought, George," he stated as he came to a standing, first wiping the blood from his neck then rubbing his forehead to make sure she hadn't broken the skin. When nothing met him but a small knot where the impact had taken place he made a tsk noise. Always go for the knock out blow, don't' let your opponent stand or you might be in big trouble. Like she was now.

Georgina smirked sardonically and came to a slow standing though more slumped then Riddick, holding her knife protectively. "Yea, well, I didn't have a bounty on my head for nothing. I let myself get overwhelmed last time, I won't do it again," she snapped.

"Then let's see what you got," he said calmly and opened his arms, his shiv in hand while the other still glittered wickedly in the dark on his hip.

George took a second to swear in her head loudly. Here she had been walking along, minding her own business, scanning the area for possible threats, when Riddick had decided to fuck her mind up and play his damn game with her. First he had pinned her, grinded on her like she was some kind of whore, and just when she had pinned him in return he had to go and do that damn move. At least she got in some hits that mark on his neck wouldn't heal within the week; it gave her some small satisfaction knowing he would live with the sting for a while. But he was at an advantage here. When the prison went dark at night it went black to the point where she could hardly see the hand in front of her face. How the hell was she supposed to fight him like this, especially when he had those damn eyes? She was fucked, oh god she was fucked. And it didn't help that he had a strange need to molest her tonight.

For a while they just stared at one another, waiting until someone made the first move. George was trying to think of any and all weakness' in the human body she could go for, any that would make him crumple onto the floor so that she could taunt him and then walk away. Only problem was that she needed him alive to get out of here, that and he was easily twice her size and weight. When the thickness of the anticipation got to be too much George moved and started to walk to the side a little, making a small circular like pattern while analyzing him. Riddick merely stood there, and though his head did not move she could feel the silver orbs within those goggles following her in interest.

He moved fast and she almost didn't catch it due to the dankness around her. With a flash he was slashing at her with his shiv, aiming for her arm, but her mind was sharp this time and used to his inhuman speed. She leapt back and swung her leg around low, hitting against his arm that had come to brace. Growling low George grabbed a near by railing, trusting it not to break under her, and brought her other foot swinging at him, twisting her body around from years of practice, and hit his arm again. Only she wrapped her thighs around it this time, grabbed the railing for dear life, and used the momentum from her attack and his own force from stopping the attacks to swing him down onto the ground. Or, he would have gone to the ground, had he not altered his footing and merely slammed into the wall with her feet now soundly in his grasp.

George was not done however and she pulled herself up with her abs and arms, swinging her shank hard against his arm. It sunk in but barely as he moved backwards, avoiding her attack and dropping her at the same time, but there was still the tang of blood in the air now. Riddick growled low in his throat, allowing her only a moment to put her hands on the ground and try to right herself from falling when his hands were on her arm and shoulder, spinning her around to force her to the ground. She grunted and turned, biting into his thickly muscled arm with a vengeance until she broke skin and he let out another pained grumble. He let go of her arm to grab her hair but that was all she needed to move sharply to the right, breaking his hold on her shoulder and letting go of the now wounded arm, and jumped to her feet quickly, putting her hands up before her face in fists.

"You bit me," Riddick looked at his arm with furrowed brows. He cocked his head at her and she shrugged, a small sneer coming to her features in the dark.

"All's fair." She winced however when he laughed at that and took off his goggles, throwing them on the floor beside her and vanishing backwards into the inky darkness around them. Fuck! This is what she'd been hoping to avoid.

A blinding pain seared up her back and she could feel a hot and sticky substance starting to drizzle down her spine. Her fingers grasped for the wound on instinct gripping at the edges and marveled at how he had managed to cut her back without harming her tank. She didn't have time to think on it or how bad her wound was before she was struck in the side by a hard punch, causing her to gasp and splutter. But it wasn't without advantage that he had struck her, for when she felt the impact her arms had reacted out of strategy, against the winding, and had once more sliced his arm while plotting out where his knees would be. Hitting out blindly into the dark she slammed her shin against his thigh, his legs having moved seeing her course, and swore slightly when it felt like she had hit concrete. What the fuck was Riddick made of??

She flew back from where he had been and nursed her side, ignoring her burning back and the fact that it was now dripping red onto the floor around them. She knew he was out there, watching, waiting, though for what she didn't know. At least this time she was showing him that she wasn't just some weakling to be pushed around…

"You surprise me Georgie," a voice breathed into her ear and she thrust her elbow back. It met with hard muscle though did not go without its purpose and hit between the hard abs right in the connecting tissue that was weakest around the belly button. Shuffling informed her that he had staggered slightly back from her but then it was silence again and she was left with a blood sheathed shank and her rushing ears to greet her senses.

"Why's that?" she snarled. She winced however when a boot met with her thigh and she was forced to slam into a wall to avoid falling. Her brown eyes widened and she rolled quickly to the side when he moved to slice at her again, pushing off and then coming to stand with her back to the railing, watching him vanish into the darkness again.

A chuckle caught her ear and she turned sharply to the right, her feeble vision trying to pierce through the dark like Riddick's could. But all that met with her was the dark and a slight rustling to inform her that he had moved again, and then quiet. "Do I need a reason?" he asked right next to her left. She moved to slug him hard when he caught her wrist and bent it back, a loud cracking noise filling the space between them. She was forced to her knees, her shank falling from her fingers and onto the ring somewhere nearby, she couldn't see where, all the while she stared up at Riddick's glowing silver eyes. He watched her snarl and move to strike him in the nuts with her other fist, but that one was caught as well and bent back to the same harsh angle until she let out a yelp of pain.

George's eyes watered as she now looked down at the metal beneath her, gasping in agony. They weren't broken, she could tell, he had just sprained them to the point where it felt like they were about to snap in half. She tried to move her legs from under her to sweep under him but the second he caught any sign of rebellious movement he bent the wrists just a little more and caused her to cry out and toss her head back in. Finally she glared up at him through her messy hair that had nearly halfway fallen from its binding, thick and unruly around her face.

"Maybe…" she whispered hoarsely.

Riddick regarded her for a moment before in a flurry of motion she was pulled up gruffly by her wrists, flattened against his chest with her hands outstretched by her side. His lips crashed against hers possessively, a rumble forming deep in his being. Now that he knew what she could, that she was much stronger than he had originally thought, it only added to the appeal! He liked a woman that would fight back, that would snap and snarl and hiss, he liked someone that wouldn't put up with any shit from anyone. To his surprise she was the one that lashed her tongue into his mouth first, her body curving into his and her lips now pressing just as urgently back.

Letting her abused wrists go he snaked his hands down her side to the bottom of her hips and grabbed them, lifting her up against him. Her legs wrapped around his waist quickly, arms coming around his neck, while their mouths moved as one in an almost fit. Tongues slid against each other hotly as they warred for dominance, her hands gripping at his tank top now and pulling at it hurriedly. George's back met with a pillar in the metal and she let out a small gasp and the surge of pain that went up her spine at that moment but it was suppressed when Riddick continued his war with their orifices.

Her core rubbed against his aching manhood through their clothing, his hips grinding into hers expectantly only to find a damp spot. So she had been as turned on by the fight as he had, huh? She really was kinky. Pulling away only so that both of them could gasp for air it was George that pulled his head back towards her lips by the back of his neck, her fingers now running over his bald head excitedly. He was just about to use his shiv to cut off her pants and tank top when a small gasp caught both of their attention.

Riddick and George pulled away from each other and glanced over to where the noise had come from. George looked on with furrowed and confused brows, hardly able to see through the dim lighting, but Riddick's eyes saw who it was that had come during the commotion of their little foreplay. He gripped onto the red heads hips harder, keeping her in place though she was now struggling to get down, pushing at his shoulders.

"I _knew_ it! You and the scary bald guy are going at it like bunnies!!"

George froze then her vision went red and her fingers gripped into Riddick's shoulders painfully. Though his face never left its ever stoic expression inwardly he was scowling and throwing things at the blond that was staring at them from around a corner. The girl he was holding up found her voice, and sadly all signs of a promising evening went down the crap shoot the instant that the teen had said _anything_.

"Ave I swear I'm gonna kill you!!"


	7. Chapter 7 Enough is enough

**Chapter seven: **

**Enough is enough**

**WARNING!! Absolutely not intended for children! Read at your own risk. **

George hissed sharply as she was pushed to the ground, her hands flying up to protect her face. Wrists were bashed with a sharp, horrible force that caused them to cry out in agony while her hair was quickly grabbed gruffly within slimy fingers. Her brown eyes flared open, her mouth forming into a snarl. A punch to her jaw made a sharp metallic taste fill her mouth while her head whipped to one side, a dark red spot forming in the point of impact. The woman was pulled jarringly to her feet by her hair, her teeth clenching to hold in a yelp of pain, bringing her hands back to the person holding her and gripping their arm tightly until she felt the bones groan. With a sweep of her feet she bent low, forcing his body up hers, and slammed him into the ground, his hand disengaging from her locks and his back letting out a sickening crack.

She turned around in time to get caught with a hammer like weapon to the stomach, sending her stumbling back a few steps and gagging on air. She heard the gun cock before she saw the blast of light that came with the plasma rounds and narrowly ducked in time, instead the shot hitting onto the wall, blasting apart the rocks that lived there and melting whatever metal resided there. George side stepped with precision, just close enough not to get cut horribly on her arm, and used her elbow to jab a guy hard in the larynx, the familiar gurgle and shock on his face greeting her just as red began to pour from his lips. He fell to the ground on his knees, gripping at his crushed wind pipe and punctured veins, shaking with coming death.

Flipping backwards, using her heels to deliver a quick blow to another guards jaw before she was over the railing and gripping onto a cord, her chest heaving and starting to climb nearly effortlessly up the thick hanging. Shots were fired at her as she elevated herself, then, locking her ankles around the cord, she leaned backwards and let a bunch of rocks fly that she had been holding within her belt, hitting the men square in the face, one in the temple hard enough to knock him unconscious. She barely had time to release her ankles before the shots were grazing passed her. Air hit her nose as she fell, her shirt ruffling in the wind, while her brown eyes never left the darkness she was plummeting to. Her brain was working in overtime, as it always did in a fight, and yet she was extremely calm when her hands once more reached out and latched onto the cord, using the force of her fall to swing herself around and back onto the platform with the rest of guards, pulling out her now two shanks, spinning them angrily.

These fools had dared come to try to take her to the warden, sighting her for some stupid ass fight with the faculty she hadn't even taken part in. The ass holes didn't know who they were fucking with… The remaining three guards were advancing on her, the three that were knocked down groaning and starting to stir. A large grin began to plaster itself on the woman's face as she slid a foot back and brought one weapon near her navel and the other near her ear, poised and ready to strike. Their weapons lasers were fixed on her and though there was limited space in this area of the ring she knew damn well that she would be able to dodge all but one of them, and she had decide what weapon she wanted to get hit with. Two were tasers, the other was a wicked plasma pulser that had been sent down as a security measure to make damn sure that they didn't fail. She figured the tasers would be her best option since the pulser would rip through her flesh like butter, and since she and Riddick were due for another visit to discuss his plans, fucking finally that bastard, she wanted to actually be awake and coherent and not gushing blood.

They fired and she moved, flipping back again, using the floor as a jumping panel, and though the taser barbs went passed her she was nicked on her deltoid and a jolt of electricity went through her. She almost didn't have time to roll away and gasp as the bright blue and green light passed by her head in a singe of motion, burning the tips of her hair and making her grumble under her breath. She was moving even though her body was now shaking from the sudden pushing electricity to her arm, still going through her veins vengefully, and used the railing to vault around a pillar of rock and then slam into the side of one of the guards who had been foolish enough to take his eyes off of her. He fell to the ground just as she landed to have a spray of red erupt from his leg, right where his artery was located above his knee cap in his left thigh. It lifted into the air with a terrible gurgling spray, flowing over the red headed woman and the stunned guards. Stunned long enough for her to surge forwards, despite a limp from one of her feet nearly being smashed by a damn hammer, swept her steal toed boots hard into one guys jaw before spinning around and stabbing her wicked knife into his neck, right between his Adam's Apple and omoyhiod muscle in his neck, watching as yet another spray erupted from the dying and screaming man's neck.

Letting the body fall she turned with her shoulders hunched, her entire body relaxed, while her constitution was covered in crimson. The liquid was sinking into her clothing, settling in dangerously, while her brown eyes were flaring with rebellion, anger, and that indefinable rush that came with the kill. The one guard left standing raised his weapon with a grunt, watching as she just stood there and started to take a heavy footed step towards him, deliberately stepping on a survivors hand to stop his pursuit of one of the fallen weapons and crushing the bones within his hand. A loud cry sounded but the guard that was staring her down did not waver in his sighting, the laser focused on her chest warningly.

"Stop, I'll shoot!" he snapped at her and started to charge up the deadly weapon.

George licked her lips free of the blood but stopped all the same. She glanced him over for a second, taking in his pathetic excuse for armor to cover vital spots that were little more than extra thick clothe and some Kevlar, and even his shabby clothing. Then her eyes caught on the ring that glittered on his finger and the locket chain that hung around his neck, undoubtedly holding a precious picture of a little boy and a girl along with a lock of hair from each, waiting… waiting for their daddy to come home from his prison job. He was sweating hard, the liquid dripping from his hair in thick, salty beads, and the smell mixed nauseatingly with the surrounding blood haze and pissed pants. He was afraid, his glazed eyes and hurried panting was clue enough for her to see, but his fear was so great that it was cogent and made her pause for a second in her murderous intentions. Family man… had kids, a wife… she winced and shook her head momentarily to rid of the surge of memories cascading over her mind.

She span one shank in her hand and pointed the dripping end to the guard, her eyes narrowing. "I will kill you. I'm giving you a chance to run," she muttered in barely more than a whisper. Her other hand gripped her other shiv, each of them still having chunks of tissue on their jagged edges, while her fingers were starting to grow sticky and slow with the amount of drying crimson on them. The more she was in this death hole the more her mind was losing out to the animal in her, and though she had always hated the smell of death, something about this time seemed too satisfying. Much too satisfying.

"What makes you think you'll get close enough to use that?" the guard scoffed but nervously. She could see him shaking… could see the hairs on his head quivering with the rest of his body though he was putting up a valiant attempt not to show it.

George let out a low and deliberately audible breath, voicing her displeasure. "Last chance… you fire that, you hit the floor within seconds gushing blood from the sweet spot and you're kids will lose a father," she stated. Though she spoke logically her outward looks were that of a crazed and deranged killer, caked and coated in red, her hair loose and wild about her face, while her skin was covered in dirt and bruises. Why should he listen to her? It was what he was thinking… _not that I can blame him_, she idly thought while she still stared this man down. _I wouldn't' listen to me. I would shoot and ghost my ass. I don't deserve to live. And yet I keep going on, keep surviving. I wonder when it's gonna come to an end. Not here though, not in this rat shit, no… I'll die out there, in the stars, on whatever damn planet some bounty hunter found me on, in the middle of a great fight._ "Go home to your family. You don't stand a chance against me…" she whispered lightly, her eyes shinning.

There was a shift in the energy around her and she knew instantly. She heard the click of the trigger and was already moving out of the way by the time the flash of green and blue had fired. She had gotten for the most part free of the blast but was clipped hard in the side, causing the skin to blister and then shatter, her teeth gritting as red started to mix with her victims. But she didn't stop, she was running at him now, low to the ground, both of her weapons at her sides like thieves knives, her personal weapon of choice. Cutting his weapons strap in a flurry of motion, sweeping her leg under him, and then pushing him down with her elbow to the back of his neck, he let out a cry and fell forwards onto the grating of the platform. He hit with a crash and she was instantly atop of him, bringing her shank hard into the sweet spot, fourth lumbar down, left of the spine, the aortic artery… He gasped when the pain flared through him and there was a splatter of blood when she yanked her weapon out, her teeth bared while her side throbbed and gushed. George watched the red bubble and splutter out of him in a river of red, splashing her on her face, soaking into her hair, and snarling to herself when it hit her eye. She watched his life end then and there, watching until the blood stopped gushing and just started to ooze from the wound, now mixed with a watery substance signifying the end of his life.

George stood with a swagger, checking her side idly, her head swimming. She knew that she needed to stop the bleeding, but it was her creed… no survivors. No one got to live if they fought with her. So, walking over to the man who's hand she had crushed she rolled him over, though he struggled, put her boot onto his chest, and raised her weapon above her head. It pierced straight through his fourth and fifth rib to pierce into his lungs and the blood vessels that covered them. He was gagging on his own red when she turned to the other two. One, the one she had forced over her back, was squirming but unable to move. She had made sure with the perspective of the fall that he would snap his spine and thus sever the cord, making him useless. The other was still groaning from being beamed in the temple. She was on him first, pulling up his head and tipping her knife blade into his neck. Dragging it along in a practiced line he was dead before she reached the other side, the platform now dripping red from its side and through its grate.

The woman walked over with a tired look and stared down at the gasping, broken guard with the sledge hammer. Crouching down she cocked her head to the side, pursing her lips in thought. Then she put her hand to his forehead and felt his pulse through the throbbing vein there, feeling how fast and hard it was. "Give me a reason to spare you…" she breathed.

"P-Please… I don't deserve this! I just, I just came for the money! It was good pay."

"So you're a merc basically?" George's tone turned sour and the guard knew he was in trouble. With a snap of his neck he was limp and gone. She turned her back to the fight scene and started to talk up the stairs to her cell where she could check out her wounds and fix which ones she could with limited resources.

Damn mercs… the thought as she continued her stumbling trek upwards. By the time she had reached her floor she was gasping for air quietly, her side having left a trickle of red after her while her hand was gripping into the wound, trying to apply pressure. Her vision was starting to get fuzzy around the edges and her ribs were hurting badly from that shot with that damn hammer. She'd been sloppy in that fight… she had let them get the better of her, she had been cocky and arrogant. _Never thought they'd actually have a pulser_… it was a cowards move to bring in plasma, always had been always would be in her book. But god did they do a lot of damage in one shot.

She stumbled across a plane of other inmates, all staring at her with wide eyes, her attire screaming a brutal fight. George was sure that she was not going to make it to her cell now, her teeth were gritting and her mind was starting to go. There was only a few yards… just a few… and she would be home safe. It wasn't a fatal wound, the pulsing had stopped and the blood flow wasn't as bad as when it had impacted. She would just need to tend the wound, stop the bleeding indefinitely, rest up a few days and let her supply return to normal. But… all that rested on her getting back to where she called a temporary home.

"Jesus Christ, George!" her graying vision filled with a flash of blond and black and soon her slumping form was supported by the soft hands of Ave. George let out a relieved groan and allowed her legs to give way under her, hands reaching up and grabbing onto the teenagers shoulders. "What the hell happened to you!?" the younger yelped, pulling her away from the steadily growing crowd towards where the red headed woman's housing was.

"Pulsar… to the left oblique muscles, glancing, superficial but staunch the bleeding and wrap my side tightly in any bandage you can… find…" George had to take a gulp of air, her feet dragging under her as she tried to held walk on. Fuck, she hadn't been hurt this bad in a while. Not that it was bad… she was just going into shock. "It's not life… threatening. Just… treat the wounds, get some water… wash them out before hand."

"But that water is damn filthy!" Ave resisted. George had closed her eyes, she didn't know when or why, but her head had lolled forwards. Their journeying stopped abruptly and the clang of metal bars alerted her she was in some way shape or form 'safe', or as safe as one could be in a double max. She swatted Ave away for a moment before sinking to the ground in the middle of the unit, her breathing harried and her eyes flittering open only to see spots of black. Not much time left awake. Damn shock was making a weakling out of her.

"It's fine… had… shots…" with that she fell forwards and hit the ground hard on her chin, passing out on the cold unforgiving floor. Ave released a distressed noise and hurried from the room to get anything even remotely resembling a bandage.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Riddick paused when he came up the stairs and was greeted with the stench of many deaths and an overpowering amount of blood. He glanced to and fro, his goggled eyes protecting him from the light of this level while his senses were pulling him towards the scene of violence. Like a moth to the flame Riddick followed, his hands resting on his shiv's and his muscles rippling in anticipation, not sure of what he'd find.

Rounding a corner he found something that he had yet to see at this place. Six guards scattered around the grating of this floor, their bodies battered and broken, and each hemorrhaging crimson goo. He stopped again and put his shiv's back onto his hips, cocking his head in interest at what had taken place here. Red was splattered everywhere, on the walls, on the floors, it was even starting to drip down into the deeper levels from the very edges of the landing, landing on some lower max or hitting someone on the head. There were already insects buzzing on the corpses, laying eggs, procreating, and eating at the death spray. In all his time thus far in this place he had yet to see a picture this grotesque and grim and just overly violent.

Sure, the prison population and the guards that lived here got into it on a regular basis, far more than was permissible by law, but seldom did this many die. Or in this manner. Crouching down next to one of the first he came across, one that had had his hand crushed from the after death swelling and dark blue and black bruising, had a hole straight into his chest and through the walls of his muscles. A shallow wound, by all means, but one that went straight for the kill, straight for the weakness of the chest, the lungs. The heart was too well protected next to the breast bone, the lungs were the best target when going for something in the ribcage. This had the markings of someone who knew what they were doing. He glanced over his shoulder at another victim of someone's rage and spotted not a stab wound but a crushed neck that was seeping red from the mouth and causing the near by vessels around it to turn deathly dark and spread like a cancer. Crushed trachea to where the fractures of the cartilage would move and slice through the surrounding veins and arteries. A difficult move to pull off if you were a newbie or didn't know anatomy…

Riddick stood and walked over the slick ground carefully, making his movements as silent as would be permitted. He glanced over the other two victims, one with a wound right to the vein in his leg above the knee cap and a bruise that was forming deeply post mortem on his side and arm, while the others jaw was dislocated and had a deeper stab wound than the others to his neck between a major muscle and his frontal throat. His inspection ended with the final victim, forgoing one with an uninteresting snapped neck and spine from the awkward angle he was laying at, and stared down at a man that had been flipped over and was covered in all of his bodies seeping remains.

This was the work of a professional; now he was certain. Not many people knew about the sweet spot other than ones that worked explicitly in the field of killing other people. The man, whose locket was now hanging from the grating and the pictures of his children hanging down with carelessness, had a puncture wound right to his artery in along his lumbar disks. Riddick glanced upwards and noted the droplets on the ceiling even in long gash like lines and nodded to himself in self affirmation. There was no mistaking it… Coming to a standing he looked around with a scowl, his nose sniffing at the air questioningly. There was something here over the overpowering scent of death and bodies relieving their bowls of their contents, but he couldn't put his hand on it. It was so familiar to him… spicy, heady, strong, and yet from under the other scents it was weak and feeble, barely clinging to the air.

Deciding it was nothing Riddick continued his walk, nudging one body with boot in passing, and moved up another flight of stairs. He had fully concocted his get away plan now. It was full and ready to go, all it needed was its second most vital player and there was a very excellent chance they would get out of here. It would happen fast when it came, they were going to go through that vent, she was going to take out the guards in the control room, shut off the security then the power to the Rec room where at seven at night almost all of the lazy ass fuckers were lounging around, locking them in. Then she would blast a hole wide enough through it with a plasma gun and he would come through the entrance, they would both bring the elevator down and proceed up to the top floor where by then there would undoubtedly be twenty to thirty people waiting for them. This is where it hinged on both her own fighting ability and his. If hers was lacking in anyway they were screwed and would get sent to the cryo beds below where they would hardly get to wake up save for an hour every day to move around, and even then they would be separated and unable to form another plan of escape. This was their only shot. It would need to be perfect and timed down to the second for it to work.

Georgie girl was key to his victory. He didn't' like to think that he would need someone's help to get out of here, or out of anywhere for that matter. Trust and friendship only hurt those that he got close to, he was better of not letting anyone near him because of the fucking shit that happened, but this couldn't be avoided. He couldn't' do it on his own and he was dragging her in on it whether he liked it or not. Riddick just wondered what they would do once they were off this rock. Then again… that could be decided when they were actually up there and among the stars rather than down here and with rock and rotting metal.

He had climbed several stairs now and was just about to walk up another flight when something came tearing passed him. He paused, recognizing the blur of blond as his girls little pet. Turning he watched the blond run a few more steps, stop with a flurry of motion not to fall over in her hurry, and turn to him with a snap, her green orbs wide. Blood was covering her front and there was a sense of panic about her that Riddick found he didn't like… Something was very wrong.

"Scary bald guy! Oh, thank god I ran into Scary bald guy!" she suddenly threw her hands up in the air and ran over to him. She grabbed his wrist and moved to pull him down the corridor and towards somewhere he didn't want to go but he resisted and stayed put, using his superior strength to merely pull her back slightly with a rotation of his shoulder. Ave turned to him with a shocked look before doing a strange dancing motion back and forth between him and the waiting area where the scent of blood was coming from.

"What?" Riddick asked impatiently, his tone deep and threatening.

She tired to pull on him again only to produce him ripping his arm out from her grasp and making her fall to her ass on the floor with a loud cry. She glared over at him with a snarl, frustration evident in her face. Coming to a huffy standing she pointed down the hall then to the blood on her shirt and back again, finally spitting out, "Would you get your ass in gear!? She needs your help! You're the one boning her, don't' you care that she's been shot!!??"

Riddick stopped from moving up a step and stared down at the hyperactive teen with a curt look. Then he took a cautionary sniff and winced when the pure smell of George hit his nose from the blood splattered upon the young woman's clothing. Then it hit him. The dead guards, the smoking plasma pulser, the mingled blood, and the look of a professional job; cursing himself for his thick headedness he stepped from the stair and started to walk forwards without even looking at Ave. "Don't just stand there, get me someone's shirt, now," he barked behind him as he marched off towards the one place that the red headed woman would go.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Plasma pulsers graze to the side. Nothing major, just enough to rip the skin apart and cause another nasty scar to go with all of the other ones that were on her stomach. They were a bitch, hurt like all hell, and made you feel like shit. They were designed to do the most damage for the amount of energy given off, and though this wouldn't kill her, it was enough to send her into shock and make her pass out from the pain of it. Luckily she had not lost too much blood or he would have actually had to worry about her. Instead, all he had done was ripped up a shirt that Ave had 'borrowed' from Luke and had ripped it to shreds using his shivs and set to work.

Years of having over a million dollar bounty on your head and you learned quickly how to heal up wounds and care for them to the best of your abilities. He had first pealed off her shirt to make sure that her wounds were not life threatening, and they hadn't been, just a nasty little hole in her side that hadn't even pierced the abdominal wall. Then he had lifted her carefully and started to wrap the still seeping wound firmly enough that it cut off major circulation but not to the point where it would be an actual tourniquet. The bandage could be removed within the day probably and she would be fine within the next week, luckily for him. The other wounds had received a once over from the murderer and he found them to be superficial at worst, some no more than mere scratches of where a prong had cut her or where her ribs had met with the blunt end of one of the sledge hammers that the guards carried.

With that scene at the bottom of the double max area she had proven in his mind that her skills were up to par. Now it was just getting her body there. And so Riddick had sent Ave to get some water to wash out the more minor wounds, having already cleaned out the major one, and sat back to watch her in her sleep.

Georgie's shirt was still off; he hadn't felt like it putting it back. He would tell her that he didn't want to open up her wound just when it had stopped bleeding but in reality he was just being a pervert, admiring the form of someone as powerful as her in her slumber. Never actually having seen her with her shirt off he was surprised at just how many scars there were on her figure from previous encounters. There weren't many, not as many as his own, but there were not enough to be considered few; no, this woman had seen battle after battle and had lived to tell about it. There was one in particular that caught his eye when he stared at it intently enough. It was long and thick, running from her navel in a diagonal to where he assumed it ended right under her left nipple, taught and shinning in the limited light of the room it was a morbid curiosity of her body. It looked like it should have been a death blow, probably meant as one, but here she was now in the Slam with him.

Then there were various bullets scarring here and there, on her shoulder, her hip, and one right next to her collar bone where someone had obviously aimed for her heart and she had moved in time to save her life. He reached down and ran a finger over the bandage and over where he muscles dipped in to show off the cut of prowess behind them. A lioness caged within such a small prison would not do, he decided. All of the other inmates didn't have it in them to get out of here and stay out. They would eventually be returned at some point and his entire little escape would be, in some aspects, a waste if his partner or partners was simply returned here. Not her though, he could tell that she would evade, she would run, and she would ghost anyone trying to send her back here. A strong survival instinct, he admired that in a woman.

If his plan went well and good then they would both be out of here within the month and then they would be on their own ways. After all, he wasn't about to take on another ward of any kind, considering what happened to Kyra, let alone someone who was perfectly capable defending herself. He was helping himself by helping her, which was just how it was and how it would stay. Now, if he got a good few fucks in on the way there then hell yea he'd allow it, but this was not permanent. He wasn't meant to be around people. Terrible things happened to him and those around him, he had learned that the hard way.

Riddick leaned back against the wall, crossing his arms over his knees and staring off into space. Thoughts once more turned to the Necromongers and just what was going on back on their planet, or whatever planet they felt like taking over next. What would happen to him now? Now that he was 'caught' what would they do? Would they come after him, try to make him rejoin, be their Lord Marshall, and if not, then what would happen? Would he have to kill their envoy sent to gather him back up, or would they simply let him rot in this place… or assume he had. Who had they gotten to be the new leader of the necroshits? He wouldn't be surprised if there had been a surge of power hungry backstabbing little ass babies trying to vie for the position they had sworn allegiance to him. Not that it mattered to him anyway. The whole you keep what you kill thing, though interesting, proved to be taxing in the least.

Winning someone's loyalty wasn't the same as earning it. You could kill someone's husband and claim them as your wife, but that didn't' make them love you, you could kill someone's king and basically force them to kneel to you, but that didn't quell the hatred in their eyes or the mistrust of you. There was an intense sense of disrespect coming from so many of the noble's of the necromongers for not only becoming the Lord Marshall as he had but also for the simple fact of being a Furyan. It seemed even when forced to bow the racism that still existed within their fibered beings, refusing to submit until the very end. In one way Riddick supposed he admired that, in another he had known it would happen and wasn't even slightly disappointed. He had no illusions of grander, no reason to even think he was meant for greater things than the fall of the necromongers and bringing them to their knees.

Oh yes, he had done major damage before he had left. Not only had he killed, fully, the quasi-dead, the oracles basically that told them what to do and who they were dealing with, but he had also blown up their precious little Necropolis with the self destruct as his final command to the computer as Lord Marshall. It had been so beautiful, sinking, spewing fire and ash and metal into the night sky, setting it ablaze in his purple vision. It would take them years to get back on their feet, if ever. He had decimated quite a few of them with his leaving, and since he had left, and no one had killed him, then they were without a leader and they were like lost sheep, begging for someone to come and slaughter him. Maybe that's why they had wanted Riddick in a Slam… hoping against hope that someone in here could be a match for him and stab him, perhaps in his sleep. Showed them, there ain't no one better at this kinda shit than Richard B. Riddick. Though Dame Vaako had been gorgeous… just a shame she was a viper ready to strike him down whenever it was to her best interest. No one could be trusted.

"Fucking shit… my head…" he was pulled from his thoughts abruptly.

"About time you woke up," Riddick stated firmly and turned to where he was staring down at the injured woman. She was stirring groggily, one hand coming to her forehead while the other clutched at the ground. Her back was arching and her legs were writhing against the ground for some kind of reprieve from the agony that was undoubtedly pounding within her skull. He had been hit by a plasma riffle too once and knew that the torture that followed made you sometimes wished that it had hit you and killed you rather than what was now happening. She must not of heard him because she groaned and put both her hands to her head and tried to shield her face from the light that was now on in her cell.

"Feel like I got hit by a fucking skiff!" George snarled to herself.

Riddick merely raised a sardonic eyebrow at this and looked out of the bars and into the prison outside. He was merely waiting for her to wake up fully to have the needed conversation on how they were getting out, as it was now she was half lucid and anything said would go in one ear, half absorb, and then fall out the other with a thud. She shifted against the ground and he glanced sidelong enough to see her try to sit up. "Hell no Red, ya got to stay down for a few hours," Riddick said demandingly. When she didn't listen to him and still, stubbornly, tried to right herself the stronger of the two pushed her down by a shoulder and held her there. It was then that he felt her go rigid under him for a few seconds then let out a hiss like chuckle from between grinding teeth, realizing just who he was.

George shifted under him but didn't' move her hand from her face, keeping it hidden and gripping at her temples. "Riddick?" it wasn't a question just a baffled statement. "You didn't strike me as a nursemaid…"

"I'm not, so don't get used to it," he corrected her. George merely rolled her neck from side to side, her legs still shifting and running along the ground. Riddick watched as her fingers suddenly slid from her face, her eyes shut tightly against the obtrusive light above, and found her bandaged up side, running over where the wound would be tenderly. Her eyes fluttered open for a second, confusion written in the brown orbs, before she grumbled and tossed to the side and shielded her vision, cursing the previously broken electrical monster. The pads of her digits froze on the coarse material and she cautiously slid her hand up and felt exposed skin of her stomach all the way up to her confining sports bra and scowled lightly.

She noticed her nakedness but to his surprise didn't bring it up but merely smirked from under her screwed up expression before plopping her elbow over her face. "Damn guards… had to have guns. I could whop their asses in hand to hand, but they had to bring guns. And a pulser at that! At least it was an old model, those things are shitty and slow as all hell," George muttered to no one in particular.

Not sensing that the comment was directed at him Riddick merely settled more against the wall and waited patiently for the inevitable. It would come here soon, he jus wondered what form it would be masked in when she asked it.

"Where's Ave?" Georgina's voice tittered uncertainly through her own flesh. Her side was pounding in time with her head now and it felt like her whole world had been shattered and turned upside down, filled with broken glass, and then she was forced to wade through it to get any semblance of understanding. Riddick's silence answered her question well enough, the girl was out getting something he had asked her to go fetch, meaning that they were good and alone. Not for the first time and she was confident that this wouldn't be the last. She was just pissed that he had to see her when she was at her weakest.

At least she was conscious now, that was a feet. "How long have I been out…?" she croaked, her voice suddenly straining from the pounding of the midget taking up room and board within her cranium. Next time she was at the doctors she was getting that thing evicted!

Riddick thumbed his shiv momentarily, furrowing his brows a moment. He counted off the minutes in his head then shrugged before he realized that she couldn't see him due to her hiding in the crook of her arm. "Two hours, three tops. That little scene you made down stairs was pretty impressive, Georgie," he stated.

George pulled her arm from her face and shot him and pensive look. He could once again almost hear the wheels inside of her mind turning, trying to form a good answer or maybe even to make sense of what he had said. Finally her lips opened in a slight 'oh' motion and she slapped her forehead with the palm of her hand, swearing several times over. "Great! I forgot to get rid of the bodies. I'm screwed." Then a brief hope and she turned to Riddick, her stormy gaze hopeful against all hope. When he shook his head she returned to her favorite hobby, swearing and mentally berating herself. This was not good! If the guards found out that it was her, which they would somehow, she would be in even more trouble, get much more than a pounding and a tasering, and god knows what else. This was turning out to be a really shit day! First she was walking along then she's surrounded by idiots that want to take her to damn warden, then she has to kill a bunch of guys one of which was a family guy, then she had gone and made a rookie mistake. Fucking fantastic!

When George once more looked at him, taking her arm from her face and finally looking like the light would not kill her on contact, she pursed her lips. Conversation even with normal people did not flow from either of them easily, he could tell that already, they were both loners, so it was difficult to form a complete coherent conversation. He was sure that if someone listened in on their talks, minus when he decided he wanted to molest her, which they would be confused as to why the topics jumped around so rapidly. It was simply because there wasn't much to be said. A lot could be given through body language and silences. He appreciated that about other people sometimes, the people that understood that quiet could be just as telling as screaming at someone, that words were meaningless and that body language showed how you were really feeling. Not that he would allow himself to show much, he had learned how to control it to a great degree, but there were just some things he couldn't hide, like how when she was staring at him in calculation like she was it made him stiffen up.

"So where's my shirt?" she asked, breaking the quiet he was so enjoying.

Riddick grunted. "I didn't want to reopen your wound," part truth, part lie, okay mostly lie, but hey, he was a guy, he had needs.

George shot him a sneer before stretching her body out and once more trying to sit up but he once more pushed her down. She tilted her head to the side before almost purring, "Yea, right, you just wanted to see me topless."

Riddick sensed the challenge in her tone and he growled before allowing a small smirk to spread onto his lips as well. He lowered himself down onto his hands to where his face was mere inches from hers, his goggles glimmering in the lamplight ominously. "I've been meaning to catch up to you for a while," he said deeply and watched as her back shivered slightly, her wry grin never leaving her face. If one thing could be said about this girl it was that she was tempting the raging animal in him, purposefully, and that was so damn hot and arousing that he had a hard time controlling himself in that moment. The smell of stale and dry blood lingered heavily in his nose but now it was also drifting up with her growing acceptance of both of their needs.

George laughed at him full out and put her arms behind her head, causing her chest to lift up and her breasts within the confines of her bra to become firmer and rounder than before. He watched motion with an interested gaze before flickering back up to her as she grinned knowingly at him, all signs of previous discomfort when they had started their little game gone. "If I can't sit up this poses a problem," she commented idly, tilting her head to the side so that his breathing hit her lips. Her brown eyes glazed over slightly when his nose brushed unabashedly against hers.

"Why's that, Georgie?" he rumbled, putting one hand on the floor beside her head, instincts screaming at him.

"That means you'll have to be on top of me while he make out and you're heavy. Like you said, don't wanna reopen my wound…" she all but cooed at him.

Riddick boomed a chuckle at her, taking a moment to shift to where he was crouched over her. He brought his lips brushing teasingly to hers, listening to her let out a slightly flustered noise in return, before pulling away again and glancing down to her side, dragging his gaze along and watching the skin heat up under his watch. He pressed a large palm to the wound, feeling her elevated pulse through the bandage, and leaned down to where he was unnervingly close, to where her brown eyes were regarding him closely. Even if they had some kind of twisted understanding here, that he would get her out of here and that she would repay him with, clearly, sex, there was still a mistrust and suspicion that hung to her form in a nearly visible cloud. But he found that appealing, that constant scrutiny…

It was consensual and mutual attraction. Something about the way that she would look at him, glare at him, snort and growl defiantly, pulled him in and made him want to plow her into the ground, make her submit to him, make her see how much stronger he was than and to put her in and her delicious hell cat ways in place. And he knew, he could tell, that it was his danger that drew her to him, that made her even think about fucking around with him. It also had to do with the promise of freedom but he was sure if he had not told her that he was going to bust out of here that she would have still been perfectly willing to be his 'playmate' for a while. She could smell death on him, could see it in his eyes, could taste the danger and the mystery around him, it almost exuded from his pores, and it fascinated, scared, and turned her one like nothing he had ever seen before. She didn't care if he could snap her in half, though in the beginning he had seen that war in her mind from the way that she had stared at him on the boat, all curiosity and interest, it certainly wasn't there any more. It was the thrill… the same thrill she had undoubtedly felt when she had been fighting for her life hours before.

Riddick had just settled his hips to hers and was ghosting his breath against her lips until she was hissing in impatient need, watching her eyes cast murder in his direction if he didn't act already, when someone cleared their throat. Damn that blond girl and her stupid water fetching. Riddick turned his head slowly and dangerously, his mouth coming into a firm line, while the woman under him tensed only marginally, her gaze now fixated on the girl as well. When his hard goggled gaze fell upon Ave, standing in the doorway with a jug of water, a slightly awkward smile on her face, he felt like driving her away by any possible means that he could, one which involved a shiv and fire, lot's of fire.

"Am I interrupting something?" Ave said with a slightly uncomfortable look on her face.

George sighed under him and he felt her shift to where her hands were pushing at his shoulders. He gave her a dark look, one that was promising that this wasn't over. She stared back at him, her brown orbs hard and serious, her mouth in a emotionless line… but all he needed to be told was her hips sliding against his slyly out of the view of the younger inmate. Riddick rumbled in his chest but pulled off of her and stood, rolling his shoulders. He passed by Ave without so much as looking at her though he did make a purposeful knock of their shoulders, hard enough to jar her out of his way and to tell her a simple thing. If she interrupted them again then there might be consequences. He was getting impatient, he was tired of waiting.

When the mass of a man had gone the red head turned to Ave and stated very simply, "Honey, I think that I'm gonna have to cut our friendship off here. Don't take it the wrong way, but you're becoming a liability to my plans," she breathed, stretching out and preparing herself for healing up for the rest of the day. An indignant grunt was all that she was met with and the sound of running off steps, causing a frown to pull at George's mouth. The girl was a liability lately, she really was. She had walked in on Riddick and her twice now and she didn't want any rumors that might spread to get to the guards and have them round them both up before their escape attempt. Not to mention now she wanted the bald killer so badly that next time she saw him she wasn't sure she would be able to resist just ripping his clothes off.

It was a shame since the girl was only fiercely loyal to her. She had never done anything to deserve George's scorn, and she wanted to keep it that way. She had toyed with the idea of getting her out as well as herself and Riddick but had quickly thought bad on the idea. Over the last few months Ave had been showing a twisting that she didn't particularly care for, one that would show her off immediately in a crowd as the convict that she was, and she would end up in another Slam faster than George could count, one where she wouldn't be as well… looked after as this one. The last thing she wanted was someone as soft and disturbed as Ave going into a Triple Max. She'd been once and somehow had gotten her neck out of it, and she would die before she allowed herself to go back to that particular one…

George growled at her forced decision and rolled over. It was also the fact that Ave had no fighting skills whatsoever. She would just get in the way, she would slow them down, she would be the reason they were caught. No, if George wanted her freedom Ave had to stay here, where at least she knew that the girl knew how to survive, where she knew that she would stay for a long time and eventually just become as bored as she was with the rings and prison house rumors. She just wished that for some reason this didn't hurt as bad as it did, and she wasn't talking about the throbbing in her side or her head.

Her eyes drifting closed she allowed herself to drift back off into sleep. Back off into dreams best left untouched.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

_The twin moons of her home planet were stunning when both were full and reflecting over the vast seas that swallowed half of the shimmering jewel. It was a peaceful world that had no qualms with others, no wars, and there was an understanding amongst all of the other religions that there was no need for senseless bloodshed to make others see their views. It was seen to many as an Eden among the other sun drenched and war torn systems around them… only issue was that there were rumors coming… _

_Telling, whispers, murmurs in the night, of a great foe that was coming towards them. They say that a comet proceeds them, that it appears in the atmosphere for a good week before they touched down, and when they did they decimated all within their reach. It was said that if you even so much as looked into their eyes that you would be doomed to die. There had yet to be any reported survivors of those star eaters that had already taken over a full thirty seven systems and were continuing their path of destruction. If they're planet fell then the rest fell, it was how a Prime worked… billions of people dead. It would be horrible. _

_And the name muttered in the still of the night was… necromongers. A young fifteen year old Georgina stood with her back to the ocean, staring up at the sky with her brows furrowed. Her hair was pulled back in several gold bands while her body was clad in draping robes of sea green and deep blues, lined with gold, and a modest necklace of the Eye of God stood out upon her pale skin. Lips gaping she watched as a white, long, strong streak continued its slow path over the crest of her planet, fear gripping at her chest. They had come here, to her planet, and they were seeking to kill all within its confines. _

_Shouting and arguing filtered up from the pure white dome like building through the cut holes and a small smashing noise sounded. She crossed her arms over her scrawny form before licking her lips again and returning her gaze towards the ominous warning of their fate. Her father was down within her home, arguing with neighbors and with the local senator, a good friend, of just what this threat was and of what it meant. So far, there was no one that wanted to believe such a threat to be true. They were pretending that it was just another comet that was coming through the cosmos, pulled into their hot red giant star and tiny white dwarf, that it was perfectly safe, that there was no threat here. Paranoia had the strangest effects on people, she decided as the sea drenched wind pressed at her curly hair affectionately. It made some people realize the truth, embrace it, and run away, constantly looking over their shoulder in fear and terror, while others it made them merely think the problem didn't exist whatsoever and that they were fine, safe, okay. _

_George snorted slightly but reached down a hand and patted a head full of fluffy, downy blond hair. Bright amber eyes flittered up towards her own dull brown ones and Georgina grinned at the small form of her brother, her eyes dancing with forced laughter. It was hard to think of anything cheerful when that thing was coming down upon them. Her whole world was going to come to an end and all she could do was watch the progress and listen to the arguing, all she could do was wait for the end… _

"About time I found you," Riddick was pulled from his thinking and glanced over his shoulder nonchalantly as the form of his current partner in crime came upon the ledge he was sitting on. She put her hands on the rock above her, a dark glimmer coming to her gaze. "We need to talk, big guy," she commented dryly.

Riddick acknowledged her acute observation by looking back down into the bowels of the prison and listening to the cries of the monsters below as they were being fed the prisoners too slow to run from them. He listened to the rocks shift as she came to sit close to him, her thigh almost touching his. He wondered idly if the ledge could support this much weight but then dismissed it and reminded him that it was supporting an entire double max and single max, a few extra hundred pounds added to it could not do much harm. He knew what she needed to talk about, he was thinking about it himself lately, and was determined that now was the time to finally hash it out. Their time to escape was coming soon, since he had heard word from a guard within the break room from his nightly observations that a new prisoner was on his way to the triple max area and that meant that most of the guards would be escorting him. Leaving them a hole in the defenses to work with… they would be distracted. He chose to avoid her calling him 'big guy'.

When she was fully settled, leaning back against the cliff face while he crouched there like some kind of massive cat, he finally turned towards her. Her breathing hitched for a second when she noted that his goggles were up against his forehead and was affixed with the full gaze of his swirling eyes. For some reason every single woman he had come across was entranced by them, fascinated by the oddity, and he had used it to his advantage in more ways than one. If a woman was entranced with his eyes then he had a chance to either kill her or bed her, and given that his intentions with Georgie girl were clearly the latter he decided to let her get a good eyeful before turning back towards the darkness. "I figured you'd come," he stated simply.

He could almost hear her blink a few times in rapid succession and then the slap of flesh on flesh informed him that she had yet again slapped her own forehead. Finally when the smell of exasperation and disappointment faded she shifted to where she was leaning her head against the rock wall and laughed softly. "Yea, I bet you did. You're creepy."

"I've been told that a lot," Riddick said with a nod and heard her snicker at him in that same almost sadistic way that he was coming to mildly appreciate.

"You are not easy to find, Big Guy," again with the nick name. He was starting to think that he might need to show her who was the boss of this twisted little friendship and that he didn't need a nickname. He had a real one and he liked it just fine. Shooting her a glare over his shoulder she didn't seem all that phased though her heart sped up very lightly. She knew that she was important to his plan… smart girl. When he didn't take the compliment in anyway that she was hoping for he watched her sigh and shrug, her head shaking from side to side in a try to get her tight muscles to relax.

"You're side, how is it?" Riddick questioned suddenly as he eased himself down onto the rock and was once more sitting like she was. He pulled out a shiv and started to twirl it around in his fingers to get the added sensation, keeping his skills with the blade as sharp as humanly possible. He could sense her stun at him showing he cared about how her side was doing, after a few days of it being healing. A shifting once more sounded and the pulling of fabric told him to look sideways to where his vision was filled with Georgie girl holding onto the rock surely while holding up her shirt, showing off the large but firmly in place scab that would take a knife or very hard hit to disturb.

She pulled it down and smirked at him, bringing her legs up to her chest. He let out a small growl at her taking away his view of her side and skin but decided to let it go. "As good as it has gonna get if we're doing this thing any time soon. I have a feeling my time is running up here," she stated with a knowing look. So she'd heard the stories somehow as well.

Riddick nodded his agreement and looked upwards to make sure that no one was listening to them from above. When he sniffed and could detect no other within range he turned to her, glancing her over and assessing her for the hundredth time in the past week. So much was riding on just one creature, a fire cat from hell albeit, but another person nonetheless and he was finding it hard to place trust in anyone's ability other than his own. Deciding it would be her own fault if she got shot or left behind he leaned against the wall as well, dangling his strong legs over the edges while still twirling his weapon. "Vents," he stated simply and her gaze became stormy and intense.

"So I proved that I can handle it?" she joked with a scoff, rubbing her side sorely. Riddick didn't say anything and she groaned, shifting under his intense stare. "Go on then."

"There is a weak point in the walls in my cell, where the vents were built too close to the prison area of the double max. It was a mistake in engineering and they supposed that no one would find out that it was there; obviously they didn't account for me. Anyway, the vents lead upwards through a maze that I've already plotted out, some lead to dead ends and some to sleeping area for the guards of this level. But where we're goin' there's a smaller area, too small for me to fit through, and just through that area is where the control center is located for this entire max. Ya got that Red?" he questioned stiffly, not wanting to allow any of this to go one ear and out the other. She fixed him with a rapt stare and nodded curtly to where her hair momentarily bounced before her face. The seriousness there was etched and deep, powerful and convincing to where he wondered what it would be like if she were to actually take him on seriously. He shuddered at the image of her ridding on top of him with that same smoldering look, his hands in her hair and her hips grinding to his.

Pushing passed the image that he was determined to make happen, and soon, he held up his shiv. It caught her attention and she watched the glittering make shift weapon with a puzzled glance. "Well, you're gonna bust through the vent in the control room, take out the guards that are stationed there. All Slam's have the same lay out of equipment, as sad as it is, and there should be a huge panel with all of the switches and whatever. You cut off the power to this level, shutting down the doors and locking them, and then cut off the lights. The emergency will kick in but it'll be enough for me to work with. Then, you find a pulser, one of the idiots should have one, and bust a hole in the wall to get me through the rest of the way. We lower the elevator to the first floor of the rings and then we head up the hard way, by cord, got it?"

Again she nodded. He could see all of the information that he was telling her getting absorbed into her brain and stored into the most vital areas and he felt a small swell of pride at knowing he had chosen the right partner this time. She was one that would actually make it if nothing went wrong. "Yea got it. Then what?"

Riddick admired her for a moment before continuing. "Then, we head up on the elevator to the top floor where we'll encounter, easily, over twenty guards no matter what. They will have found out about the break out by then but will be confused, we can use that to our advantage. We'll hide on the bottom of the lift when it reaches the final floor and then when there are some guys on it…"

"Cut the support cords and send the thing plummeting to the ground and the aliens below," George finished for him, her eyes sparking with the idea. Her mouth turned into a twisted smile that was mixed with hatred and joy at the same time.

Riddick raised an amused eyebrow at her nodded. Points for style, he thought with a small growl in his chest again. "Here's the part that gets messy, girlie. You get shot, I leave you behind, you get thrown down or injured, I leave you behind. We only got one shot at this and I'm not staying behind for your ass, no matter how sexy is it is in those damn cargo's. We ghost all the fuckers up there, kill the Warden, take the money, and get the ship that just came in, killing the remaining mercs aboard as well. I will leave you," he said again for emphasis and he saw a flare of that same defiant anger in her eyes. She moved to argue with him but he held up his shiv and glared icily into her own orbs, his presence overpowering hers.

Finally she let out a grunt and looked away, snarling under her breath that he didn't need to worry about her. With all of the details of the plan gone he pressed a hand onto her thigh and shifted to where he was hovering over her, his lips now dangerously close again. When all she did was stare at him, silently saying there was no room, he grabbed her by the waist and hoisted her up with one arm, causing the tough little hell cat to yelp and hit him in the arm. Riddick jumped down onto the platform below, his platform, and landed with a barely there thunk. The air was wrought with tension when he set her down and started to advance on her, his breath even but hot and anxious.

George sucked in a breath when her back was met with the wall, her teeth gnawing on her lower lip thoughtfully. Body caging hers in she felt her heart beat speed up to the point where she shifted to try and get the pain in her throat to go down. Head feeling slightly dizzy and drunk she curled her body up into his much larger one, her arms coming around his neck once more while her lips slit under his, anticipation hanging between them. He stopped moving abruptly though when she locked eyes with him that same hunger was there a slightly cocky smirk plastered onto his lips. She swore in her mind, realizing that in those few seconds of willingly giving into him she had lost their little game, but at this point didn't care… She rose up and took his mouth savagely with hers as best she would with the height difference.

Riddick growled throatily at her, his hands coming to fist some of her red hair while the other pinned her shoulder to the wall as if to say that this time they were not going to be interrupted. He took control over the kiss soon enough and she pacified beneath him, almost liquefying onto his chest while his tongue explored her orifice heatedly. They had both denied themselves long enough damn it, for something as meaningless as sex. The male of the two pulled from his conquest, lashing his powerful tongue against her upper lip and causing her to elicit a moan of pleasure, her lips red and swollen from his possession. His head dipped slowly, biting and nipping along her jaw line and forcing her head to arch back, bearing her neck to him.

George shivered when his tongue ran up the front of her throat before his lips came down to nuzzle her neck, causing shockwaves of hot pleasure to jolt through her and pool heavily between her legs. Her mind was misting over and her eyes were half hooded, tired of waiting. His hands smoothed down her sides, running the palms over her muscular curves, and when they hit her hips they dipped down and settled upon her rear. She whimpered lightly at the touch, his fingers flexing in the soft yet firm muscle through the cargo's she was still dressed in before squeezing them together, pulling her ass towards him and pressing his throbbing manhood against her stomach.

This caused George to feel a searing heat throb throughout her whole being, and with Riddick's damn skilled mouth now sinking in steadily gruffer on her neck, marking her, sucking on the skin until she was sure it was bruised in the shape of his teeth and lips, as well as the feeling of his now rock hard organ pressing proudly against her she let out a flustered noise. She ran her fingers down his back through his damned tank top, pressing the pads into the hard plane eagerly. In a flash and a gasp she was up in the air, her thighs wrapped around his waist and her back pinned harder to the wall. She didn't have time to think though before his mouth descended upon her breast through her shirt and bra, causing her to pant and grip at his bald head.

In this new position George could feel the tip of his cock through his pants, wanting, straining desperately to sink into her through each of their clothing. She grinded up against him causing him to let out a low glower from against her chest where his teeth were tugging at the fabric impatiently. "If you don't get me naked right now Riddick I'm going to stab you," George snarled, pulling at his tank top earnestly. She had wanted this for months and she would be damned if she let some stupid thing as clothing get in her damn way. She didn't care if she had to cut the clothing off the fucker, she wanted him now.

"Fine," was all he muttered against her chest, his head buried between her breasts. He dropped her down with a flop, her balance off center and causing her to stumble. Riddick however grabbed the bottom of her shirt and ripped it off of her and pulled out his shiv again, bringing it to her throat momentarily. All motion stopped from her and she stared at him with wary brown eyes, her mouth pursed in slight distrust. Her breasts heaved as the blade traced down her throat, leaving a silent trail of goose bumps and terrified skin behind him, though the fear radiating off of George was drowned out headily by her arousal and perfect scent… Her gaze never left the knife as it dropped down further and further, her breathing hitching in anticipation while the sharp edge threatened the coming fabric beautifully. The blood rushing to the surface around the blade caused her breast bone to flush a marvelous red when the shiv finally dipped between her breasts and began to fiddle with the edges of her bra, watching the dark fabric rise and fall with her harried breaths.

George didn't dare to move. Though she now _knew_ that Riddick needed her to get out of this place or else he would have to find another way and that would take too long that didn't take away the fear and anxiety of having his weapon pressed so intimately to her flesh. She was twisted, she'd admit it, she'd be the first to tell you that she wasn't exactly normal when it came to what she liked during sex; in fact she liked the feeling of the cool knife blade on her, liked how it was wickedly thin and powerful, able to cut anyone with a mere flick of the wrist. The power of his control of it was amazing and made her blink in awe of it, and when he started to graze against the hills of her chest, up against the cushions of her binding device, she sucked in a breath at the electric sensation it sent up her legs and jolt her core. Riddick knew what he was doing… and though that both scared her shitless it also forced her to trust him completely that he wouldn't kill her during this encounter, something they needed for their up coming attempt.

His nose came to her ear and teeth grazed at the shell, causing her to inhale sharply, the knife making a small push to where it was dangerously close to breaking the skin. "You look nervous, Georgie," he murmured huskily.

George found it hard not to out right laugh at him, realizing that the sudden move of her chest would ensure her damage. She shot him a slightly playful dirty look while a sneer crossed sardonically over her lips. "Wouldn't you be if I was doing this to you, Baldy?" the blade stopped at the nickname she had dubbed him on the ship. She let her malicious grin grow wider at the narrowing of his perfect eyes and the pulling downward of his lip. She would have to ask him why he shaved his head…

Riddick merely bared his teeth in a momentary chuckle that was more of a show of power than a true humor, and his knife continued it's trek upwards. It found the strap of the hated material and he pushed it under the dark fabric, watching with rapt attention as the sides of the support started to fray under the pressure. With a flick of his wrist the strap was gone and that side of the binding fell down, exposing her chest to his sight if only one of them. He growled again, moving the knife in the same fashion as that one side, and now had his eyes fixated on hers, peering at her reaction. When she gasped as the other strap was cut, the material falling uselessly from her breasts and hanging from its back clasp she licked her lips nervously, her breasts fully exposed. He pressed is calloused hands onto the sensitive skin and listened as she hissed and shut her eyes at the sudden burst of pleasure that went through her.

George felt her clasp undone and she was bared completely on top, her mouth painfully close to Riddick's again while his fingers were ghosting over the softness of her chest. It had been so long… it had been so long since he had last been with a woman that had managed to get to him this way. Fry had, oh Fry had gotten under his skin to where he had resisted valiantly from plowing her into the ground several hundred times over their visit to that planet, but… she'd been ripped from him before he could do anything. He winced at the memory of her, having during that time when trying to coax her into the ship thought she could be the one that might calm him down, might solve the murderer in him. She had said she wouldn't die for him… if she hadn't said that, if she hadn't jinxed it, then he was positive that she'd be alive and he would be having his way with her every single night. But as it stood it was George, this spit fire, which was arching into his touch that now had his burning mouth over her one of her peaks, groaning incoherently. The two were so different that it was baffling. The Furyan span George around and ran his hands down her stomach, enjoying the way that she leaned into him in acceptance, her own fingers finding his belt and undoing it deftly within a few seconds.

When his hands ripped off the button to her pants and pushed them down he let out a grateful murmur, staring at her naked backside, praising whatever god had it in for him that the red head didn't believe in underwear. She stepped away from him and stood there with her hands on her hips, her brown gaze smoldering and her chest heaving from need. Riddick realized his was doing the same and promptly tore off his tank top before capturing her up again and pulling her up his body, to where her mouth was level with his. Claiming her mouth brashly once more his free hand undid his pants while at the same time pushing his boxers aside.

Within seconds he was sheathed in her dripping opening and she pulled away from his mouth and teeth to let out a breathless gasp, her back arching and her legs tightening around his waist. Her eyes closed tightly for a second and though he was enjoying the look on her face the shear tightness and heat that was engulfing him made him shiver and let out a hiss of his own, waiting for a second so that her opening could stretch to fit him within.

George gasped louder when he moved, withdrawing back until he was almost all the way out before slamming back in none too gently. She tossed her head to the side, clawing at his revealed, hard shoulders while an intense throbbing was starting to go throughout her entire core. She had known, oh god had she known that he would be like this, after all… he would have to be proportional since he was no small man. But geez she hadn't felt anything like this in years! Her head was swimming, conscious thoughts hardly able to form besides one word over and over again, fuck, while he was now thrusting at a steady but harsh pace. She ran her fingers down his bald head before biting onto his lower lip hard before forcing her tongue into his mouth, shifting her hips to him.

Animalistic instinct led the way hard and fast. There was no gentle caresses, no whispered sweet words, nothing of affection and love, only the carnal and primitive need to have the body sated. They moved against each other, each one now starting to let out growls and hisses, biting, scratching at the other, while the battle went on. This was just another way for them to fight, she was sure of it as he slammed back into her full force, causing her body to convulse from their joining momentarily before she reigned in her limbs and drove her nails down his back harshly, to where she could feel the metallic substance run down his spine from her wounds. He pulled her hair back with one hand, the other having wrapped a firm arm around her to keep her in place so that he could continue his assault, before he bit down onto the center of her neck hard. His teeth, surprisingly sharp, bit through the skin and forced blood out into his mouth, causing the woman he was claiming to gasp and moan in a low and throaty manner.

Riddick lapped at the wound with vicious determination. His hips were now crashing recklessly into George, his silver eyes watching as she threw her head back and her face conformed into a wonderfully pained expression. Grunting he stopped when he was buried to the hilt in her, having to grit his teeth not to just start hammering away again, and she glared down at him with that same intensity that had first drawn the killer to her. When she opened her mouth to berate him he grinded there, moving her up and down, and when he found the right angle he knew it for she shut her eyes tightly and opened her mouth wide in a silent scream. _Beautiful… _he thought with a growl before angling his hips and began his relentless pursuit again, hitting that one spot he had been seeking out.

Her moans were turning into silent gasps, fingers digging into his shoulders while her body was tensing up. For a few seconds at a time she wouldn't breath but held her breath and he couldn't help but notice when she did she would become so much tighter… so much hotter. He could feel their combined juices running down both her thighs and starting to mix onto his, his organ that was now piercing and pushing at her rugged walls starting to twitch with excitement. He gazed at her face intently for a second, enamored with how she was now biting onto her lower lip as if trying not to show her weakness for what he was doing. Then he lowered his head and took one of her nipples into his mouth and pulled on it hard with his teeth. Her walls clenched so dreadfully at that and he felt his entire body jump with consuming heat, his entire back tensing up at the sudden constraint. God if this kept up she would die…

"This… doesn't mean… anything," Riddick growled at her from between powerful thrusts. Each push sent her up higher on the wall then dragging her back down and soon George's back was raw from the shear force that was behind his attack.

Her back had turned boneless and her body by now was acting out things her mind wasn't telling it to do, for her brain had turned to goo. Hips were thrashing back down onto him, impaling herself harder each time, and every time he went all the way in at that blinding pace he was now going at she would let out a quiet cry at the sensation. A few more hits on that one spot within her was enough to make the gradually building tide of molten pleasure surge up and then float away, biding its painful time as her body was soaring to new burning heights. It was maddening and when her fingers pulled his head away from her breast she slammed her mouth gruffly over his, looping her arms under his and using his massive body as the needed leverage she needed to equally his impossibly fast power. Finally, after another punishing blow, she pulled from him and her body went completely rigid, the only thing showing her complete elation that was ripping through her like a white hot comet, making her eyes fill with dizzying stars, was when she let out a small whimper like groan, gripping onto him for dear life.

Riddick grunted when her walls scrunched hard around his manhood, impossibly tight to where he couldn't move. It was heaven, being sheathed in there, his vision blurring and his knees threatening to buckle, all the while she was now almost fluttering violently against his screaming organ, pulling it in deeper until it hit the edge of limit. Her limps clasped right around him but her middle was now thrashing around, back and forth, in a quiet display of panting satisfaction. He didn't have a choice but to let out a quiet growl as he arched his back, his entire body clenching painfully, and he began the thankfully blissful process of spurting his seed into her willing body. He pulled back and started to hammer away, milking out every single frustrated drop from his achingly pleased body, listening to her pants and watching her eyes now stare helplessly up a the ceiling above them.

At last, with one final burst, her body calmed down and he stopped moving. They stood there, entwined, for a few seconds, breathless and wonderfully basking in the afterglow of a much needed session. Riddick waited until he was soft again to pull out and set her down on her feet, marveling at how her body was still heaving from exhausted pleasure, a small, true smile gracing her lips. He put his forehead to hers for a brief moment, inhaling her scent in the after affects of their joining and found himself almost purring at the odor that surrounded them. It had been so long since he had met with a woman that could make him lose control like that.

George was the first to pull away to his surprise, he'd been to pliable to just sit there and smell at their scents mingled together, sliding down her quivering thighs. She pushed him away before gathering her shirt and pulling it on over her shivering body, her movements sluggish and her fingers not quite up to speed with her brain. Next came the pants and he watched with grudging approval when at last the cargo's came over her firm rear; at least this way temptation to fuck her again and again would be gone. Though there would be other times… there was still a few good weeks.

Riddick took his que to pull up his pants and do his belt again, but left himself shirtless, the black tank gripped in his large hand. She turned to him with an appraising look and he knew that this was something so powerfully primal and urgent that neither could resist it again for long. When they had been together there had been an explosion, a tension that had filled the entire prison with its force, and when they had at once filled each other then there was nothing but the other person, nothing mattered in those moments. And it had been Eden in Hell for those brief moments. She nodded at him as she finally pulled on her boots that she had somehow kicked off during their foreplay, untying and then doing up the laces with a deft and skilled hand.

"Right… well," her voice was firm but there was still the quake of orgasm thick within its cords. Riddick found himself bursting with an odd pride at having reduced her to such a state. Straightening out she smoothed back her curly hair from her sweat slicked face and stated simply, "this doesn't go on beyond the prison. Once we're out of here, and wherever we decide to go, we go our separate ways. This was just…"

"Relief from boredom," Riddick finished for her. She flushed darkly but nodded, crossing her arms under her now braless chest. There would be no salvaging it and when she moved now he caught the bounce and jiggle of the purely female muscles. He walked by her and she didn't so much as flinch but there was a rekindled excitement in the air that he would be all too willing to exploit later in the days and weeks to come. "The ship comes in two weeks. Be ready…" he commented, his voice thrumming deeply.

George nodded again and watched him vanish, shirtless and purely sculpted male, into the dark around her and she knew that she wouldn't see him again until he damn well wanted to be seen. Sighing heavily she started off towards the water source, ready to wash off his scent though she secretly wanted to bathe in it for a while longer. This couldn't get out of hand… like he had said; it was just relief from boredom. They were both adults, and as such they could participate in a sexual relationship if they wanted. But it wouldn't go beyond that. Couldn't go beyond that. She had a feeling that both she and Riddick did not even know how to begin anything that would remotely justify what explosion had taken place and was still bursting between the two convicts.


	8. Chapter 8 The inbetween

**Chapter eight: **

**The in-between**

The weeks before freedom are always the longest. It's the ones that instead of planning you're waiting, put very simply, and it's in those times that you become so bored that your head is about to rot off. It also has to do with the fact that you are waiting, in your cage, imprisoned, knowing that in mere days upon days that you will be free. It makes minutes seem like hours and hours seem like days. If she wasn't careful she would lose her mind just in the few moments before they were going to bust out of here. Lucky for her though… Riddick never seemed to be willing to allow her to be bored for terribly long periods of time.

Instead he would take her around and show her where the ducts were, which way to go, or rather, instruct her which way since it was pitch black and she couldn't see worth shit. He said he wanted her to memorize it almost as well as he had, though that was unfair since he had been in these damn things for four months now and she only had a week and a half. He had also gotten into the habit of helping her train, to keep her body in top shape for when they escaped, and they would spar for hours on end. She had only won against him twice now and even then those were moments when George was sure he had lost on purpose, she didn't know why, but she was damn sure of it! And then there was also the fact that they'd been going at it like rabbits since their first time four days ago… that George didn't mind whatsoever.

And so as George sat with her feet dangling over a ledge, staring over at him from across the ring with her eyebrows furrowed she wondered what he was up to this time. She had been sitting her to get a good view of the electrical system that ran through the elevator support system when it had gone up for the first time in a while with a dead prisoner from the triple max and he had just happened to appear across from her out of no where, staring at her with his head tilted and his goggles covering his mystifying eyes. As she sat there she could think of only one thing. She stunk, badly, and although Riddick never said anything about it besides a passing comment that she needed a shower she was starting to wonder about him. Guys easily produced more pungent body odor, it was how they were made, to cool down their bigger bodies faster, however the murderer didn't smell like anything close to what he should. In fact, whenever he was near her when they were about to start yet another session of boredom control she had always noticed how pleasantly manly he was, and how there was almost no sweat stench whatsoever. She was starting to think he knew where the falls were and he wasn't telling her. The bastard. Resentment in something this young and crucial wasn't a good idea but she couldn't help it. It was engrained in the human psyche to want what someone else has, and it just so happened she wanted to get naked, clean her clothes and her body, and for once not feel like she was covered in a good inch of filmy oily dirt.

Sometimes she wondered if he could sense she was angry with him because he merely sat there and stared. After a few moments he glanced upwards with a blank expression but in an instant she understood. He longed for the freedom of the stars and of the worlds outside of Brigitus S.8 as much as she did, maybe even more so. There was a reason why Riddick kept breaking out of the Slam's and she figured it wasn't just because he was stubborn and exquisitely intelligent where he should be dull. He hated to be held down in chains, to know he couldn't do something, to know that he was limited by anything that wasn't his own physical inabilities, and she admired that about him. There was once a time, she was ashamed to think, when she had been willingly shackled down and allowed to have her freedom stripped away. Wincing, she thrust the memories from her mind and jumped from the ledge she'd been lounging on, grabbed a near by cord, and swung herself over the railing with a small thud, the metal beneath her feet groaning.

The rest of the prison had no idea that they were going to break out soon. She had once gone up to the fifth platform again to scout out and make sure that there weren't any rumors that could spread to the guards and give away their plan only to find the same old dribble. And a pair of newly angered blue eyes locked onto her the entire time. It seemed that Ave could hold a grudge far stronger than George had thought her able to. Either way George had messed with Luke some, murmuring in his ear that Riddick liked the look of his eyes and might just have to take them for himself, and watched the guy go running like a dog with its tail tucked between his legs. It was good that the rest of them were oblivious. Although sound in theory the idea that if all of the double max inmates surged up against the guards, as well as poetic, they would slow them down and the chances of them all fitting into the waiting merc ship, all the survivors that was, the chances were slim to none. Killing and arguing would start and it would cause undue drama and uproar.

It was better this way. None of them could handle what was going to happen and none of them were ready to be back into normal society since this place had warped their minds so badly. They wouldn't' be able to hold down their voices, they wouldn't be able to hold it in that they're an escaped felon, and then they would be back in a Slam within the month. If they weren't killed by local police first. As sad as it was… because she and Riddick had been in such a short time they were less likely to have suffered the craziness of this damned hole in the world and were the best candidates for a break out. That and… they were also the strongest and sadly the smartest when it came to this kind of thing.

She just wondered how long after she ripped the warden's throat out with her bare hands and stuffed it up his ass while cutting his intestines out with her small, dull boot cuffs, that they would find a new runner. It would take only a few days for words to reach, maybe even hours, for them to hear of the passing away of a significant portion of their workers here and would send a fleet of people to rein things in and to get the prison under control. Days perhaps… weeks. What would the other inmates eat? What would they do? How would they react? Would some of them be foolish enough to try to get onto the surface of the planet? She hoped not… Brigitus was not a system to be trifled with, especially S.8. If they set foot onto the surface they wouldn't stand a chance.

"You stink, Georgie," George had been absorbed within her thoughts, too absorbed to notice that as she sat on the ground pondering the fate of the others here to notice him come up on her. Even in the light of the day with all of the miners lanterns that served as their illumination he managed to come up on her without so much as a creek or flash of flesh. She was starting to think he was a figment of her imagination and that she had gone crazy. She shot him a dark look, staring up at Riddick while pulling on her lower lip in thought, making the skin red and agitated.

"Thanks, but not getting to bathe properly in a good five months makes one vile smelling," Georgina snapped irritably. It was a sore point for her to not be clean considering her home planet was so filled with water you could boil half of the sea and still have enough for the entire civilization to live on. Once again she swatted the memory of her home away with a snarl and a wince, trying to avoid the lump forming in the back of her throat. That place was dead and gone for a full decade to her now… there was nothing anyone could say or do that would make her dredge up that mess.

She could feel his eyes boring into her from his vantage point and she was starting to get pissy, wanting to yell at him to go away for a few hours and leave her alone. It wasn't that they were spending so much time together, in face most of the time he just came by for an hour or two for sex, leave, and maybe help her spar. Out of the total twenty four they spent maybe four hours together, and the rest was spent in what she liked to call relaxing solitude that just happened to resemble her form of Hell. She waved her hand dismissively, not exactly feeling up to having her brains fucked up due to the fact that her smell had started to become so strong she had to breathe through her mouth not to wince from the stink. One could only live on musty brown water trickles for so long…

"Then let's get you a shower," Riddick stated as if it were nothing and her eyes snapped up to him. Her mouth dropped open while he just stared down impassively at her, his hands on his hips and looking all the world as smug with that blank expression as if he were smiling broadly. In that solitary moment she hated him and wanted to rip his penis off. But… sadly she needed that, if only until she was out of here.

"You, you, ASS!!" George shot and stood in a fit, throwing her arms up into the air. She pointed an accusing finger at him before coming intimately close, though her eyes were screaming his death slowly and painfully. "Why the fuck didn't you tell me you knew where it was at!?" she snarled.

Riddick shrugged and let a small smirk quirk at the side of his lips. "Ya never asked, Red," he said deeply. His gaze followed her as she stormed away from him, running a hand through her stubborn hair while muttering curses and profanities of very colorful sorts under her breath. Stopping when she was about to kick a metal pole and thinking twice on it she turned to him again with a cryptic stare, her mouth in a firm line that spoke volumes of her annoyance. She inhaled deeply to calm her nerves before turning and walking back over to him in long, purposeful strides, trying to convey her anger in each and every thud of her foot.

"Fine," the joy of a coming shower, however cold, was more than enough to make up for the bottomless pit of anger that had just opened up right now. She could have been clean this entire time, she could have been basking in a fall and getting good and sterile, clothing wouldn't smell like stale and rotting blood, and her hair wouldn't be frizzed out to the extreme as it was. She watched as Riddick gave her an amused look through his goggles, and it was scary that she was starting to be able to read his emotions slightly with those damn things on, before turning and walking off towards the stairs. She followed after him grudgingly, thinking in bitter tones that she wouldn't give him any today for this. Even though she knew perfectly well that she'd give in or he'd take what he wanted anyway.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Riddick had led her through the rings of the double max with practiced footing. Over toppled boulders and deep into the area where the old abandon cells stood ajar, nothing more than holes in the rock face, and into almost impossibly tight passages. It was no wonder that none of the current prisoners knew, really, where the murmuring falling of water stood. All of the older timers that had used these ancient cells were long gone and had taken their secrets with them to the grave, keeping one thing for themselves when the system had taken all that they had owned or held dear. One last moment of spite had taken with it all of the comfort that this place might have held.

When they came to a cliff face within one of the many winding passages of rock and rusted away metal he glanced over his shoulder to make sure that she had kept up with him. Not to his surprise she was right behind him, her breath beating on his neck while her hands held onto the rock face with an uncertain look to her brown orbs. She was so close… too close, he surmised. So he moved away, walking along the small pathway that ran along the rocks and downward towards a rotten metal platform isolated from the others, undoubtedly from the original prison. She followed him without a second thought, almost clinging to him without actually touching Riddick, though he could tell that she was close enough that if she fell she would reach out for him. Whether to take them both out or to try and save herself he didn't know… getting inside of her head had proven harder than he had thought it to be.

Upon reaching the platform and listening to her let out a breath of relief he continued walking, pulling up his goggles as the place was pitched down into such dimness that he wondered if she could see at all. A stumbling sound, a series of colorful swears that could only come from the inventive mouth of Georgie girl, and he got his answer. No. Lucky for her the water fall's smell and sounds ripped through the tense and acrid silence that had slipped between them, causing her to pause a moment and hold her breath. Riddick laughed mentally at the scent of her overwhelmed joy and relief at the mere sound of it and when they finally emerged into the chamber where it was rushing down from a near by wall and washing over a cliff face with a railing that was rusted and untrustworthy next to it for the person using it to hold onto he was almost bowled over with the way that her heart sped up and her breathing began to become harried. He had moved aside just in time for her to push passed him and walk over to the massive stream of glittering water, a grateful and almost spiritual look to her face. He didn't like it.

A part of him wanted it to only be him that caused her heart to speed up like that, for her gasp, for the murderer to be left breathless and in awe. But he knew better than to let that get out of control and pushed the roaring of his animal side down, watching as George opened up her arms as she stepped under the falls, her eyes closing and her face raised up towards the top, a smile on her face. Riddick cocked his head to the side at that moment, amazed for however brief, with watching her hair go from a rusty red down into a deep, deep blood red verging deathly on brown, from wild and frizzy curls to thick wet tendrils that wrapped with spiny fingers around her neck and face, sticking to the scorched skin affectionately. She leaned out of the falls to get a quick breath before going back in, running her hands up her arms and feeling the dirt just wash away in an exhilarating mix, her clothing now glued to her body and clinging on in hilly mass.

It was mesmerizing. He watched with his purple gaze, goggles still atop of his head, as the form of his current bedding partner moved her body around and rolled her head, letting the water cascade down her body in trickling beads of shimmering light. Riddick could feel his own body heating just from watching her shower but when she moved and started to peel off her shirt, determined to get every inch of her dirty form, he had to hold in a moan at the motion. Her back was slowly revealed to him, a back that he granted had seen many times in the last four days, but the way that her back dipped in at the small and her spine curved, rather cut sharply, into the spine, causing every muscles around it to move with force; he licked his lips. Shirt divested, throwing the sopping weight from her form with a flurry, she crossed her arms over her chest momentarily, enjoying how the water trickled down her flat stomach, tracing down the curves in spindly rivets of streams. He watched with hungry eyes as the water dipped into her belly button and then continued down into her cargos that were now a dark green verging on black.

God it felt so good… George tossed her head back, causing the thick strands of stubborn hair to fly back and let out glittering droplets. She opened her arms and began to scrub at her chest and stomach, arms, anywhere she could get at, to get it clean as possible. She felt every inch of grim and filth that had acquired over the months slowly chip away in layers until all that was left was the glowing red of her own skin, making her sigh in relief before taking the opportunity to open her mouth and take a big drink of the frigid water. It didn't matter that her teeth were secretly chattering, it didn't matter that her entire body was covered in chill bumps from the chilled water, all that mattered now was that she was clean… finally clean! Or, as clean as someone as herself could be.

Deciding that she had cleansed her upper body as much as she possibly could without removing layers of skin next she hesitated at undoing her pants. She narrowed her eyes for a moment, calculating all of the things that could happen in this moment and all that couldn't. If she took off her last article of clothing, having kicked off her boots the second she had seen the falls, then she would once again be giving into Riddick in some ways and that was more humiliating a thought than she had ever thought possible. She was a fighter, a warrior, a killer, and the very thought that someone was able to make her submit, to bend to his will, was more than she could stomach. Yet at the same time it excited her to think that he was so powerful, because then that gave her an excuse to strive to be stronger, strive to be better, try to best him. During her hesitation though, with the falls filling her ears and the waters blinding her sight to mere slits of confusion, she hadn't heard Riddick move behind her or even heard him throw off his shirt as well.

"Sexy, Red," Riddick breathed in her ear, watching her jump in startled fear and lash out with a balled up fist instinctually. He dodged easily enough but the blow came closer than it had in days and he stared at her intently as she just stood there, arm next to his face and her eyes wide with sudden contrition. "Trying to hit me? Not very partner-ish of you," he observed.

George spat at him before crossing her arms under her chest, glaring at him stoutly. "Yea well stop scaring me half to death with your creepy silent walk thingy and I won't try to hit you. I mean, honestly, what do you expect me to do?" she inquired sarcastically before turning her back to him and running her fingers through her hair in appreciation. When Riddick didn't answer she smirked smugly to herself, patting herself on the back for making the Richard B. Riddick unable to answer a question. Then again… he was rather quiet. He could just be fucking with her head. Again. God knew it was his favorite pass time, the fucker.

Riddick leaned up against the rock wall and watched as she hesitated; looking down at her pants multiple times and he could almost hear the war in her mind. Though they both were very willing participates he could still feel the unwillingness to bend to him, to do what he wanted even if it was what she wanted as well. She was stubborn to a fault. It would get her in trouble one day… he could just tell. However, she was in here, so it must have already gotten her into hot water a good few times. He watched as she finally huffed and pulled off her pants and threw them over to pile next to the shirt, watching with hazy brown eyes as the blood and shit of the prison started to drain from the clothes fibers. The Slam could be a harsh place and though Georgie girl was a fierce woman and a fighter in all sense of the word he could tell the wear and tear was starting to get to her. The way that her shoulders were slumping in a less prideful way, the way that her gaze distanced for a long time and seemed soft compared to the hard as knives and sharp as glass looks she shot around perpetually, and just her energy sometimes made him wonder if he left her in here would it break her? Would the shear boredom of not having anything to do, of not having anyone to talk to, of just existing and slowly die away from the ages, break her spirit and put her into the common place folder with the rest of the invalid's around here? He idly wondered if a sedate George would be a good George, if he would like her like that, not always fighting him, snarling and hissing and spitting like the animal that they both were. Or… would he hate it?

He would despise it, he decided. That fire, that shear force of will to not be anyone's servant or lackey was what he admired in her, had drawn him to her in the first place. That 'fuck off or I'll kill you' look that she would shoot him even still made his entire body shiver sometimes and he just knew that sedate George would only be able to manage quiet submission, just stare blankly at him as if the world itself was pressing on her and his weight was nothing new. He would decapitate that Red before he would see her that way. Something in him was just too protective of the way that she was and he was keeping those emotions in check with several heavy chains and locks and keys to make sure that this stayed where it should. This was nothing more than sex, Slam sex at that, and like she had said… as soon as they were out of here they would go their separate ways and would most likely never see each other again. They would just become distant memories of their time on Brigitus S.8.

He came out of his thoughts when George shot him a smoldering look, her head tilting to the side so that the water that was still pummeling her form caused her hair to slip over her shoulder and curl around her chest. Her body was glistening and when she started to stalk, not walk, but walk very quietly and very determinedly, he knew what was happening. There weren't many times when George had been the one to instigate anything between them, he was usually the one to take it to the fucking each other senseless level, but from the way that her eyebrows were now falling into a feral glare he knew that there was nothing else she wanted from him.

And he was right for within seconds she was in front of him, her hands coming to grip his arms while her toes rose her up to graze her lips to his enticingly. He did nothing, only watched with his simmering silver eyes as her gaze swept over his bared and toned chest, her tongue subconsciously licking at her lips in anticipation. Riddick allowed George to push her hands from his arms over his chest, basking in the feeling of not only her fingers but the water dripping down his body and the sight of her naked, warrior woman form. There was almost nothing soft about George, the only area's that he could find that had any fat and not chiseled muscle were her modest breasts that couldn't have been bigger than a B-cup and her rear, where he loved to sink his fingers when he was screwing her into a wall or impaling her on his lap. Oh so many more positions to try before they broke out of here…

George snapped Riddick from his wandering thoughts when her fingers pressed urgently into his pectoral muscles and dragged down roughly, dipping with the curve and bow of his abs all the way down to his belt, leaving a welted red trail behind her. He didn't so much as whine but merely moved his head and pushed his lips momentarily to hers in approval, a pleased growl working its way from his chest. Her gaze was hungry when it fell onto his accursed belt and soon it was ripped off of his body and thrown, somewhere, within the cavern of the waterfall. His little hellion, his burning inferno trapped in a woman's body, oh god it felt good when her fingers were dipping into the front of his pants. Her lips fluttered up his neck, licking and biting in a way that she had learned he liked over his pulse, causing his breathing to hitch for a millisecond. He had already been rock hard since guiding her towards the area where her body would be cleaned off, finally, but now it was becoming uncomfortable. But he was going to let her do what she wanted. If she started it, she would have to finish it, which was how this worked.

Her fingertips brushed with his engorged manhood from under his boxers and his hips moved of their own accord; rolling a long, drawn out graze against her hand. Riddick found that suppressing the moan pushing at the back of his throat when she grabbed it hard in her hand and bit down on his ear at the same time, savagely, as if to say that two could play this game and be on equal footing, was extremely difficult. Her lips pulled from the wounded lobe before kissing at the shell and blowing into it in a hot, breathy stream, making his neck and arms burst into unwanted goose bumps. His pants were unbuttoned and down in a flash of movement and he patiently stepped out of them, tossing them aside with a careless angle and watching her intently for her next move. It came when her body pressed up to his, both slick with the falls, and wrapped her arms around his neck, kissing at his lips enthusiastically. With such a polite and agreeable request he couldn't deny her when her tongue swept over his crease and instantly took her into a dominating and hot battle, his arms coming to crush her around the small of her back to him.

Their mouths did not move from their intense joining, tongues and teeth clashing in a moaning and heated display, while her hand was still against his manhood and pushing up it to where her fingers were pressing at the tip. Riddick had to pull away for a small grunt when she wrapped her thumb and index around the sensitive area and gave it a small squeeze, his eyes glassing over for a moment. He grabbed her hair gruffly in his hands and slammed his mouth to hers again, his body grinding into her hand while her firm form stayed where it was despite the pressure. Pulling at the strands of hair he felt a strong sense of power when she whimpered lightly against is mouth, her eyes flickering open to glare at him for nearly tearing a chunk out. This was why he had shaved his head, well, one of them. Hair was a weakness, if you didn't have it, then you didn't have the weakness of whenever someone merely tugged it you wouldn't be on the floor in howling agony. But Georgie's hair… oh it was something different. It was something to control the spit fire with, and he found it incredibly erotic to just hold onto her hair when they were going at it like animals.

She surprised him by pulling away again, forcing her hair from his grasp with a sour look before licking her lips again and smiling devilishly. He liked that look… Riddick watched with glowing gaze as her lips flittered down his throat to his chest, her hands now holding onto his hips sensually and her brown orbs locked onto his almost the entire time. Down her lips rained until she reached his navel where she flicked her tongue in and caused his stomach to tighten on instinct alone, letting out a long and controlled breath.

"You didn't strike me as the type, Red," Riddick murmured when her viciously blazing orifice reached the cut of his hips and was running along the razor sharp lines with vigor. She glanced up at him with a smug glare before holding out his manhood to a good angle before burying the head of it into her mouth and sucking on it harshly. He had no choice to but to gasp and hood his gaze, a fist coming into her hair in pleasant surprise at her actions.

She didn't answer his question but instead pressed her tongue into the bottom of the head, feeling the entire shaft within her hand jump at the motion. Deliberately being achingly slow she lowered her lips down until she had him in as far as he could go, halfway down, and then slipped both hands to grasp at the thick member. Riddick had no choice but to let out a hiss at the sensation it sent throughout his body, arching his spine into her touch cautiously. If he wasn't careful he could lose any ground he had gained, even though he could take it back by force, he liked to be more artful when it came to the game of seduction. If she gained too much power here, making him moan and scream with pleasure like his mind was pleading to do from the way her steaming, sinfully wet mouth moved up his organ and then sucked on the head gruffly again, causing his toes to curl, then their whole relationship would be thrown off balance. He was the alpha here, not her. Though she was doing a damn good job… he wished she would go fucking faster though!

George glanced up to see his face slightly wincing but controlled, every muscle in his face hard and tense to keep the stoic look glued there like cement. She smirked against the skin that was engulfed within her mouth and decided to have some more fun with this. Pushing down again at a shocking pace and using one of her hands to pull at the sack that rested between his legs gently he let out another hiss, before she pulled off of him completely. Listening to his growl of displeasure she merely ran her mouth down the side of his manhood, feeling the veins along the inside that protruded wonderfully when he was this aroused. Small, white specks of pre-orgasm liquid was starting to seep from the hole in the top and when she returned and licked at it purposefully then pressed her tongue into the slit his hips bucked just very slightly, his hand in her hair tightening marginally.

She wasn't an assassin for nothing. There were skills, such as this, that you had to learn when in her field of work. Sucking a guy off just happened to be something she had picked up and had figured out how to do it well enough to have almost every guy panting and whining at her by now. But not this Riddick guy, no, as she stared up at him and started to rub a hand up and down his shaft, squeezing in the center and almost releasing at the end, he was merely narrowing his eyes as if debating whether or not to let her see him enjoy it. She knew he was, because when, as now, she pressed her lips to the joining of shaft and sack, pushing her tongue up hard into the most sensitive area, he let out a groan and rolled his head back, both hands now coming to grip her hair.

"If ya know what's good for you, George, you better get back to it," his voice was husky and rough, filled with lust and desire and it made her spine turn to goo. Her knees were already weak just from watching the way that his face was screwing up lightly from the bolts of pleasure when her mouth once more descended down on him. She didn't know how much more she could take before her own passion needed attention. Disregarding her own raging libido she started to bob her head up and down, the water around them providing all the lubrication she should ever have needed.

Salt filled her taste and the muskiness that came with pure maleness. She pulled off again for a minute only to lick at the opening again before pushing his hips back and taking him all the way to the back of her throat, forcing herself not to gag and to breathe through her nose. When it was comfortable enough she swallowed slightly and that caused Riddick, to her pleasure, to jump ever so vaguely, and grip her head to his aching, burning arousal.

He couldn't take it anymore. His entire body was on fire with need and he could smell in the air his own scent heavy and thick in the air around them, mixing wonderfully with the power of her own acceptance. He pulled on her hair hard to where she came off of him in a growl of resentment, glaring at him for a moment before he turned her around and pinned her to the rock face. Riddick buried his face into the crook of her neck, lavishing in the way that her breathing hitched and her body curved into his from its position against the wall. A hand came and separated her legs to his liking, to where it would provide enough balance and width that he could enter, before running a skilled finger over her slit. It was music to his ears when she moaned and shifted her hips into his touch, her smoldering stare locking backwards with his.

Riddick pushed his stomach to her backside, his organ standing proud against her rear, and watched as her backside flushed a deep red from the surge of blood. He licked his lips momentarily, taking in the scene before him with gratification, before putting both hands on her outthrust hips and bringing himself into alignment. He brought his panting mouth to her ear and bit at the edge sharply, forcing George to gasp and roll her eyes into the back of her head and a sneer appear on her face.

George buried her face into her arms when Riddick thrusted into her hard and fast, causing her entire body to push forwards into the rock and her mind to turn into a pulse of painful bliss. A slow, low moan lifted from her rib cage as he pulled out and slammed back in at a decidedly agonizing pace. She tossed her head back, enjoying how the water slid down her back in chilled waves while her overheated skin was being assaulted by the fellow murderer behind her, fingers gripping into the hard and biting surface of the cliff before them, bruises starting to form on her forearms and chest. But she was too gone in the upcoming build up to even care… and she doubted that Riddick would have anyway.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

The sound of pounding feet hitting against dying metal ripped through the screaming and the heavy air of the prison. Panting, harried breath gripped at the running figures chest as they dashed around the corners and through the rings, dodging and barely avoiding the things chasing after them. Roaring and unholy loud and high pitched screams followed after them, all sounding at once, and the scrambling of claws and beating of wings sounded throughout the space where the figure was running full force. Arms pumped and heads ducked, passing by fellow prisoners that hadn't been so lucky to be as fast as they were or to think of trying anything other than standing still and staring in horror.

George slid along the hard ground, cutting up her recently smaller scabbed up side, and went through a small hole in a caved in area of the ring. Swearing in her head she turned as she came to a crouching sitting, her hair sticking her face in rebellious tendrils, and watched the glowing red and gold through the break she had just cleared. Claws and thin, sinew arms of green and deathly blue reached through the area and then there was the sound of a great crash and she was running again, reaching over and pulling down cords, blocking the path behind her the best she could. The monsters they had been keeping at the bottom of the triple max had been unleashed already this month but it seemed the guards had found out about a small uprising lead by the idiot Ave and had thus decided to do something about it. George had been taken aback by the presence of the sudden yelling and familiar screeching of the monsters that flew through the night and had such voracious appetites that she had almost been caught by one of them when they first showed up. Almost. Key phrase here, because as it stood she jumped over a railing and landed onto a lower landing and continued her run after a small stagger, she was still alive.

Not if those things got her though. The beating of wings sounded in her ear again, unnervingly close, and when she rounded, bringing up her shank just in time, the thing was before her with razor sharp claws reaching down and barreling onto her from the roof where it had been hiding. Pack predators… of course. Why didn't she see that coming!? She hit the ground with a hard thud, the breath being knocked from her chest in an audible grunt. Her brown eyes glared upon the creature as it now fought with her on the ground, teeth gnashing and claws ripping down at her.

They were ugly fuckers. Bat like things with large, webbed wings that were a grotesque peach color veined with purple, their heads were blunt and hammer-ish looking with sharp barbs coming out from the chin and the top of her head, and one particularly nasty one protruding from the end of its tail. She had to roll abruptly when that thing was coming smashing down on her, causing a loud clang to fill the space in which she was fighting and leaving a wicked gash in the flooring. Long little shits, almost snake like in their body, though they had six legs that came off in thin but hard muscled arms that spread off into tri fingered and wickedly clawed, they also had around seven eyes, one on the top of their funny looking heads and three on the sides. It was just George's luck that they also had two mouths on their freakishly long faces, and both were trying to get a piece of her. How the warden had thought that he could control these things was beyond her. Where the fuck had these things come from anyway??

George was pinned again, with all of the arms held in each of her grasps, rolling her head side to side to avoid the gaping maws that sought to kill her and eat her innards. Sweat was stinging at her eyes and her back was in pain from the continual pushing of this damned beast, trying to get at her. George kicked it hard in the stomach and rolled again just in time for the things tail would have taken out her right arm if she hadn't. It flipped away through the air before landing in a heap of limbs and wings, its glowing red eyes flaring over to her and the look of death within the orbs. She took out both of her shanks and span them around in her fingers, her mouth in a firm line and her body going taught and ready for battle. Her legs were tired and every part of her ached from running for so long. They had released these demons a good twenty minutes ago, and though that wouldn't have normally been a problem for someone like her, the fact that the prison didn't feed them properly had taken out much of her stamina. When she was out of here she couldn't wait for a good steak, bread, and beer… oh great heavens beer…

With a shriek the thing was at her again, all of its shinning claws reaching for the woman, and George fell backwards onto the floor, kicking the thing upwards, and bringing her weapon into its side. Her face was bathed in sickeningly warm and wet blue blood as the thing screamed at the top of its lungs and floundered in the air before crashing. She stood, her eyes the only part of her face untouched by the goop, and watched the creature stammer and stagger, its feet and hands ripping at the metal while its tail was thrashing around in defiance of its death. She glanced around and spotted a metal pole that must have been part of the railing at one point. Kicking it up with her toe she held it heavily in her hands, a glare directed at the thing that was now hissing at her, starting to stumble as if to give one last charge. With a ringing she let the pointed end of the pole fly, watching with satisfaction as it smashed through the creatures skull, shattering the bone like skeleton that surrounded its face, and started to spew out the same azure goo that covered her face. She gazed on as it moved for a second, seemingly unaware of its injury, before it fell down and let out a final cry to those that were fluttering above, waiting for the coming of the girls death that never happened, all the while thin slivers of curly grey matter began to ooze from the gaping hole and around the imbedded pole.

George glanced upwards when she heard similar cries from the others that were still alive, swooping and flying around the ring in anticipation, before running full force out of there, leaving the carcass. They were after her again, she could tell from the hissing and the scrapping following after her, and yet wherever she went, whatever cell she passed by, all of the inmates were watching her with wide, helpless eyes, refusing her entrance into safety. They merely gasped and withdrew when the creatures rushed by them and were leaving the female to her fate. Fine with her… she thought with a panting breath, reaching up to another thick bundle of cords and ripping it down, causing the end of it to hit something with a thunk and a scream, a cracking noise telling her that one of them had broken something, somewhere.

George was coming up to a cross roads; up ahead there were stairs, narrow and small where she could maybe take them one by one, or one of the cords she sometimes used to pull herself up to her own level. As it stood she was three platforms away from certain safety from these creatures from the depths of the ninth hell. The cord was almost certain death, so were the stairs, but with the stairs the chance of living was slightly higher… Swearing in her head for her horrible odds, her lungs starting to burn and her vision now searing with the running blue blood seeping into her orbs she turned and flew up the stairs two at a time, reaching up with desperate hands at the bars and pulling herself along. Slamming noises told her that they were coming up the stairwell none too gracefully, their wings trying to beat against the thin walls around her.

The final stair came with relief and she pulled herself up and over it, turning with a shank and driving the business end right into the first one that came up from the stair way, its massive head the first thing she saw. With a shriek it fell back, its eye now officially gouged out and all of the tendons severed, but not before she slammed her boot hard into the center of its face and heard the satisfactory crack that filled the air. With a growl she turned and fled, not even watching the body be pushed away by its fellows and just reaching for the rope that was hanging just before the platform. With her slight lead she could pull herself up and then fly up the stairs and get to her cell just in time. Launching herself off of the railing with sure, booted feet, she gripped onto the coarse binding and began, immediately, to scale upwards, not even stopping to think about the scary popping noise that had sounded from one of the muscles or the small throbbing that had sounded from her arm when it had happened.

She pulled herself as fast as she could but it wasn't fast enough to beat the surge of the flying devils, they filled the air around her with that unholy sound, surrounding her and reaching out with claws and barbs to tear her apart. George slashed at one that had gotten too close, taking off a wings membrane with a calculated move, and it went plummeting down with a startled scream, down into the darkness. Flesh was beating now against her face and scratches were opening around her fingers and arms, their determination to make her let go evident while their damn cackling was filling her ears. She opened her eyes from their tightly closed position and stared at the railing of the other platform that was mere feet away, but her momentum was lost. She would be lucky if she got there… then again… luck seemed to like her lately.

She swung her legs, using the head of a nearby demon as leverage, and started the rope in motion. After the third swing and pump of her legs, which were by this time starting to feel like jelly, she threw herself from the dangling thing, grabbing onto the railing with a thankful grunt. She didn't have time to thank whatever lived up in the stars above because one of the damn things was coming right at her, its mouth open and wanting a chunk of her spine, so she curled up into a ball and used the platform's floor as a vaulting and span over the railing while still gripping it. Her hands were running now with blood and there were several cuts but she didn't care at this point. Cuts could be healed if you were alive, not if you were dead.

They charged after her and George started off again, her chest feeling like it was going to cave in. But sweet, sweet salvation came in the form of recognizing her surroundings. In her controlled panic she hadn't thought about the possibility that she may have miscounted her progress and when she slid around a corner, hiding behind a pillar and waiting until they ripped passed her, driving her weapon into ones tail, taking it to the ground, and then snapping its thin neck, she glanced over across the ring to where a single, solitary cell stood open and waiting for her to return. The dying yell of its fallen pack member alerted all of the other creatures and they swung around, flying through the air as if it were nothing, circling around and letting out indignant noises of rage towards their prey. She panted and had to force her jumping, dissolving muscles to move away, to push off and start running again. Though it was getting harder to keep going… it was getting harder and harder to breathe.

She heard the scrambling, the clangs again, but it was there. It was right there!! George reached out with a frantic hand, her eyes wide and her teeth bared in a snarl, she wouldn't die because of these fucking things. She was knocked to the ground… and rolled over to face with one of the largest of the demons, its mouth baring down on her and reaching for her neck, for the finishing blow. George barely had enough time to bring her weapon up into the things stomach, but even as she twisted the thing and it let out a keening cry, its tail came down and tried to take off her head. She rolled it to the side, her breathing harried and her fingers now pushing the knife upwards, cutting from its abdomen to its neck, and though her body was awash in the blue, it didn't' give up. Now all of them were above her, circling like vultures, while this thing that wouldn't die was cutting at her arms and trying to get passed them to the weapon buried hilt deep into its skin. Intestines flooded from the cavity and landed on her with a sickening slopping noise, sliding over her revealed stomach, and she winced but was too lost in driving the thing impossibly harder until its eyes glazed over and drool began to drop from its mouth in sickeningly smelly strands.

'Get up… gotta get up…' George thought as she glanced over towards where the other monsters were staring at her with hungry eyes. Staggering up to a standing, with the monster still draped over her, she pulled her shank out and backed up a few feet. They slithered towards her, as if sensing her fatigue, and they started to lick at their non-existent lips with long, slimy black tongues. George turned and took off full force, pushing all of her remaining energy into her legs.

She surged passed the area where her and Ave used to just hang out and barreled into the area where her cell was located. They were right behind her, she could feel some of them just barely miss her back by a breath's length with their claws, and when the open, bared door came into view a grateful noise lifted from her chest. Diving in, just as one of them had reached out after her with its tail to impale her and allow the rest of the pack to gorge, she turned around on the ground and kicked the door closed powerfully. The clang and loudness with which it resonated caused all of the things scream momentarily from the pain but then they were ramming into the strong door, seeking to devour her, to kill her. Luckily… it was locked, and though she kept her legs on the door she slumped back and let out a shaking, harmonious sigh of relief.

"I have got to get out of here…" she murmured to herself while her head was now pounding. Her eyes slid shut, her chest heaving with searing breaths, and she fell into a fitful slumber, curling away from the door where the creatures were now paroling around, trying to find a way in. That was the closest she had come to death in a long time, and George had no intention of getting anywhere near it again.


	9. Chapter 9 Stars the limit

**Chapter nine: **

**The stars the limit**

"Finally," George muttered within the darkness around them. Silver eyes turned to her with a curt look and the red head shut up, her eyes narrowing just as harshly while her arms crossed over her chest. Riddick turned to watching above, waiting, crouching against his perch on the rock face of the double max. They had all heard it, the slams and clicks and rumbles that came with a ship that was docking at the prison on the surface of Brigitus, however it was only to George and Riddick that it mattered any. The others had gone on their way, they had all known that the man coming today was going into the triple max, that he was some bad ass political killer that had murdered three planets kings and emperors. Riddick sometimes wondered if the warden thought that he was a bunny rabbit compared to this guy… obviously the man was underestimating him.

He felt Georgina shift against the rock and came to where he was crouching, hanging her feet off of the sides and watching with anxious eyes as the elevators lights switched on in anticipation of carrying the man down. Riddick turned to the woman and she nodded, both of them jumping from their perch and landing nearly soundlessly onto the ring below. It would start now. While they were distracted with the new prisoner they would go through the shafts, it would take a good ten minutes for the guy to go all the way into the mountain side they were in and then down a few miles to the place where the warden would greet him. They had those ten minutes to get through the metal ducts and then she had three minutes to break through the barrier, take out all of the guards on the other side, and then blast a hole he could get into. It would take those three minutes for the majority of the guards to reach the triple max. Then they would summon up the elevator while they were still at the bottom, leaving them there with the inmates, and call it to the top of the double area, wherein they would both climb up to it through the hanging cords and ropes. From then on it was all stealth and waiting on the bottom of the elevator, once the guards were on it, confused as to where the other guys were, they would grab onto the railing near by and cut the support shafts and wires, short circuit the elevator, and send it plummeting down.

The rest would rely on god given talents of killing and fighting. He watched George out of the corner of his eye and wondered if she would fall behind at any point. He meant what he had said, if she got shot, if she fell, if she wasn't at the ship when he was or within a few seconds of him closing the haul door, he would leave her ass on this planet. He was looking after himself with this shit, not her. Riddick drew his attention back to the task at hand when they came into his cell and he grabbed the sheet of rock he had placed before it to hide the secret entrance from the guards notice. Pulling it out of place he nodded to the woman accompanying him and she slid into the slim opening, shrugging through it on her elbows and knees. He climbed in after her and put the rock back into place, entering into pitch blackness.

"You better not make me run into a wall again," George's voice lifted into the silence around them. Riddick didn't say anything but a small smirk of amusement and they started their way down the passage of small metal outcroppings.

The made little noise for by now he had taught the woman before him, who's ass was marvelously close to his face, where all the most secure points within the ducts were and where they would make the least amount of racket. It turned out she had been a quick learner and had paced the journey out in her head over the last few weeks, counting how many sliding steps it would take to get to the corner they needed to go right at or something like that. Though she would still stop and wait patiently for him to tell her, or rather mock her, in which directions to turn. But now they had to get it right. They couldn't make a noise in here and they couldn't mess up their time frame. Riddick ticked the seconds by in his head, two minutes had passed and they had gone deep within the vents and were now coming up to the very first turn.

George reached out a sure hand and grasped onto the sharp metal of the fork and then turned to the left, shifting her weight perfectly to where it groaned very little, and moved off towards their destination. Riddick went after her and they began a slow and steady climb upwards that would lead them over half of the rings in the double max all the way up to the second fork in the ducts, then to a small drop off they would need to slide down, and then turn again before reaching the small area where only she could fit. He watched her lithe form ahead with a small amount of pity forming in his gut. The prison had taken away some of her muscle bulk over the last few months, sadly. She had been ripped that first time he had seen her in here and on the ship, he could tell the heavy build that was on her had been from lean and powerful definition that came with living life in constant battle. Now she was more slender and there was no doubt in his mind she could fit through that tiny duct, it was just a question of how well she would fair against the five or so guards in the control room, just waiting for something to go wrong.

He slid his hands over the cool surface of the duct and glanced around with wary eyes. Something was heavy in the air around them and though he knew it was also the smell of George ahead of him, that same musky scent of oleanders and female, it was also something else… Pushing it aside he decided that if something did happen he would deal with it. Though it was often the small things you didn't plan for that came and bit you in the ass it was also those things he was good at thinking around. His knee hit against a knob that hadn't been there before and he had to hold in a curse at the pain it throbbed through his leg. He glared down at it only to see that it was a screw that had come loose from the years these systems had been in use and glanced up in time to see George freeze from his lack of movement. She glanced over her shoulder in his direction and again he was struck with how her gaze found his instantly even in pure darkness, and he again had to wonder if there was someway somehow she could see like him. But when she shifted her eyes and then looked around with a bewildered glare he dismissed that train again.

"Go, it's nothing," Riddick commented softly in a barely there whisper. With a nod she started off again.

They felt the bend in the system, or rather, he saw it, and they were once more at a fork in the area. Coolness washed over them as the fan somewhere turned on, causing the woman before him to let out a small breath of relief, having put up with stifling heat for a good five months. He closed his eyes momentarily in enjoyment as well, having almost forgotten what it was like to feel the chill of air conditioning. However when they had both basked for a good ten seconds he nudged her with his fist on her booted foot and she glanced towards the left then the right, obviously having become slightly disoriented in that moment of distraction. Riddick leaned forwards and pressed a hand on her right leg, signaling to go that direction and she did what she was told.

They both paused and shifted then George disappeared with a ruffling of clothing on metal, sliding down the two feet with effort to remain silent. She landed with a barely there clang and quickly scuttled away so that Riddick's much larger form could come down. When both of them had gone down the drop they started off again and noticed quickly the passageway getting smaller and smaller until it was snug around Riddick's shoulders. He glanced to his side to see the light coming up brashly from the barred vent that lead into the break room. George shot a quick curious look over to it, hearing the voices of all of the off duty guards, before she received a quick pinch from the leader of this little break out. Rolling her eyes and grumbling to where only he could hear he watched her go down onto her belly and start to elbow her way upwards and into the increasingly small passageway.

Riddick watched her glowing purple form all the way up to the entrance to the control room and there she stopped, putting her hands up to the bars and undoubtedly staring in to assess the situation. Judging from how she pulled out a shank from her boot and the other from its home on her hip he knew instantly that there were more than he had thought there would be. He stationed himself in his position, his breathing regulated but a small pressure forming in his chest, anticipation was never a good feeling when one was busting out of a slam…

George's eyes were assailed with light from the inky blackness when she had first reached the control room a few hundred yards from Riddick's position. She blinked owlishly a few times, rubbing at them, then settled her hands upon the bars and regarded everything within the room with acute interest. The control room was much nicer and immaculate than the hell hole she had been living in for far too long now. It was in the shape as the rest of the rings only it went outwards in a dome, covered in thick, Plexiglas; the computers and boards were lined up against the edge of the glass so that the runners could watch the prisoners below cautiously. Or so that would be if the two that were in the large office chairs of lush leather and synthetic cotton weren't just keeping their legs propped on the sensitive equipment and staring down with bored eyes, as if it were nothing but a chore to be here. Obviously they hadn't done their job… she thought with a sadistic smirk, because she was here and the most wanted man in the universe was right behind her.

She turned and surveyed the rest of the room and caught the glint of a familiar enemy. Plasma and taser guns were attached to the hips of over nine guards littering around the room, two where even stationed right outside of her vent though she was sure that it was merely for cool air and not suspicion. If they had truly thought someone would try this shit then they hadn't checked the walls for weakness' well enough. Running her tongue over her incisor and feeling the familiar bubble of coming, heated, battle pumping into her veins her vision went red. There was always this thrill… so intoxicating… so awe striking that swept through her body the very few moments before a kill that it had quickly made someone as soft as she used to be into what she was now. A cold hearted killer that didn't think twice about what life meant or what it was valued at, other than her own. You had to be selfish in the business she was in. If you weren't, if you watched after someone else's ass or if you thought about the person you were about to ghost, then you would start to go insane and start to feel like you were a monster not fit to live. George should know… she had already gone through all of that shit and had come out the warped being she was now.

She reached into her boot, twisting around silently, and pulled out her wicked second knife before pulling out the other from her hip, feeling the metal graze her skin with a threat. Cocking her head to the side George felt her blood pounding in her ears as she watched the ones closest to her, licking her lips slowly. Reaching out slowly, deliberately, when none of the others were watching, she brought the knife blades dangerously close to the ones near her, toying with each and watching the metal reflect the light dully. Her eyes hardened and her mouth formed into a small quirked grimace like smirk when with a flick of her wrists the snidely powerful weapons bit into the skin, burying deep into the juglar before slashing across the front, forcing her to spin slightly onto her back, and cutting off any strangled cry that could have escaped.

By the time the bodies landed with a thud and the audible splashing of blood on the clean floor sounded she had already span around and kicked off the grating with a loud clatter. She surged through the entrance and had just enough time to punch one guard that had been walking over to check on the bloodied others when she had come through, then she turned and stabbed him straight through the ribs and into the heart, where he gasped and fell to the ground, grasping at his wound. George turned to the others and ducked when a barrage of upper grade plasma shot at her, putting holes in the walls and nearly into the vent where it would have hit Riddick undoubtedly.

"SHIT! Isn't that one of the prisoners!?" one of the runners yelled and reached for his gun rack, only to find it empty. The ashen look on his face as George turned to him with a sneer, her head tilted disturbingly and her fingers tightening around her weapon.

"Fire, for god's sake fire!!"

Riddick glanced upwards when he heard open gun fire in the room where his partner had disappeared into. A small amount of dread welled up within him but he pressed it down with a firm hand, his mouth firming into an impatient firm line. His girl had proven she could handle this by herself. Thudding and the sounds of gurgling informed him yet another had hit the floor and from the scent of the massive amount of blood he measured that there were at least four dead already. A final, misfired plasma round sounded, someone that had freaked most likely in the wake of seeing everyone die so suddenly, and there was quietude. Good girl… he thought, kill them all before the alarm is sounded.

His ears filled with the cock of a gun just at the entrance of the vent and he took his cue, rolling off into the grate area above the break room, holding himself up with his hands and feet on the metal shaft. With a blinding light and having to grunt from the force of it, hiding his eyes in his shoulder, the round ripped through the ducts and created a much larger hole, just like he had known it would. They would save the good weapons, the more powerful ones, for right in the control rooms and up top, just in case. All the better for him, he thought with a smirk as he watched the metal twist and glow red hot, waiting for when it was safe to crawl back out.

When he at last did emerge, clicking his tongue in annoyance at how bright it was in the damned room, he surveyed the damage that George had done. Pulling down his goggles he glanced at the litter of bodies, all either slashed or shot, mangled corpses with heads or sides missing, all bleeding out in massive amounts. There was a final groan from one guard before he heard a single clip of an automatic fired into the poor guys head. Riddick then turned to the woman that had delivered on her side of the deal and took in her form.

She was, more or less, un-phased. There were small barbs attached to her arm that were still connected to a taser gun and from those holes were trickling little red trails. Other than that all of the rest of crimson that had splattered her form was from someone other than her, even those that were the controllers that had been shot point blank in the head. Pride swelled in his chest and he took a moment to take in her work, admiring the style it had come with. "Nice, Georgie girl," he stated in his gravely voice.

George merely rolled her eyes and threw him two automatics and a small plasma that would hook onto his belt nicely. She had already equipped herself, he noted, and he watched as she now wiped her blades off with a loving look on her face. "It's George, not Georgie," she quipped.

"And my name's not baldy, you don't see me complaining," Riddick shot right back though he was walking towards the controls. He spotted that she had already shut off the power to all of the rings and that the only reason that this place still had normal lighting was because of the generator in the corner. He glanced out into the darkness of the prison and noted the forms of several inmates walking around in bewilderment.

"Whatever, can we just get this done with? I want a shower, and I bet that ship'll have one," George stated simply. She put her weapons back into her belt and then crossed her arms after pulling out the shock barbs.

Riddick merely nodded his agreement and glanced once more downwards towards the triple max. He turned to a monitor that held the position of the elevator, it was now rising, upon command previously put in by his cohort. By the time they got out of here it would be at the top of the double max and they would be on their way to it. George had already gone to the door and was punching in a series of numbers she must have hacked from the computer main console and he found himself admiring the fact that she didn't need to be helped overly with the technology aspect of this job. Shouldering one automatic and placing the pulser on his hip he walked over to her just as the door slid open and they started out into the dark red barely there illumination of the auxiliary, emergency lights.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

_Necromongers were the worst kind of shit. They took what they wanted, and if you didn't have it, then they killed you. They hadn't even bothered with that convert or die crap, oh no, not her planet, for some reason her planet didn't deserve to be spared. It was too peaceful, too dull… not artistic enough. The Lord Marshall was just begging to have his ass handed to him by someone like her. _

_It was no wonder that when her eyes laid upon this Necromonger idiot that had come to scout out the planet she was currently holed up in she had lost it, her vision had gone blurry and her entire body had run cold. She had never killed someone before… the first blow had been an accident really. A wrench, a large one that she used to tune up Floaters around the city with, to the back of the head in the middle of a dark alley… She had just wanted to scream at him, maybe land a few punches and swear a few choice words at his sickening face, but it hadn't happened that way. Her anger had blinded her. After the first strike the fourteenth had come and soon she could hardly lift her arms, her chest was heaving, and she was covered in blood splatter. He had been dead after the second one, she remembered how his skull had shattered and brain matter had started to mix into the cast off that was thrown from her weapon. _

_It was wrong, she knew that damn well… but oh god did it feel good. They had killed her planet, her life, her home, everything that had defined her and her existence in this universe. And what did they do? Come in, kill everything, take the planets as theirs, and leave. Though there had been many with the sense to flee the planet, her and her brother being among that had, and there were certainly more of them out there, it was just this bubbling pit of hatred wouldn't die. It was festering, and the way that the Necroshit's body was sprawled under her only made that wound open up and become aired, justified, reasoned… _

_Brown eyes flittered up to watch the moon as she dropped the wrench from her grasp, having cleaned it of prints and making sure she left absolutely no evidence as humanly possibly. That night, this night, with the twin moons of her new home hanging above her and the grey threat of dawn on the horizon, had changed her. She wasn't just Georgina Collins anymore… no… she was something harder, more feral, and an all together different animal. She liked this feeling… this rushing in her blood. George walked off, leaving the body with a parting spat, and left into the night as something that would never be the same again. _

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Climbing ropes was never a big deal. They were simple, easy, and as long as you distributed your weight just right on her hands and made sure to shift your center of gravity to somewhere in your torso and not in her stomach or hips, then you were fine. So as George followed after Riddick on the ropes effortlessly, pulling herself with little help from her lower body, they were making good time. He didn't have to worry about her falling. It seemed like she had done this king of thing before.

But thinking like that could be saved for when they were on the merc ship. So far they had managed to kill the remaining guards on this level that had been outside of the control room. Running to the platform edge they had jumped one after the other onto the dangling cords and secured nylon, Riddick first and then the woman that had just ghosted a bunch of guys in a few seconds flat. Now, they were just making their way upwards toward the hanging elevator that was just a few levels away from them, standing there like some great shadow in the blaring red around them, and a beacon of coming freedom. He didn't so much as think as his muscles did the work for him, pulling effortlessly, to where it was one fluid movement. Sure he felt the strain, he was heavy because of his build after all, but it was all mind over matter when it came to situations such as these. Georgie girl was probably having an easier time of it than him because she was smaller and lighter.

Though that didn't stop the fact that they were now so close to elevator they could almost touch it… "You would think the guards would have at least given credit to the thought that someone would find the ducts and use it like that. How stupid can you be?" George's voice drifted up from behind him.

Riddick didn't stop but only slowed slightly to acknowledge her question. He thought it over for a second before stating, "they were careless. They underestimated the intelligence of the inmates," he reasoned. Silence greeted him, a pensive silence, and he knew that George was weighing his words. They continued upwards despite the sudden spark of conversation, climbing through the dark and towards space and the planets that awaited them. It was only now that he was starting to feel the weight of the automatic on his shoulder and the pulser on his hip. He knew he'd need it later, shiv's could only go so far in a group battle, but he just wished they weren't easily ten kilo's each.

"Well then they really are morons. I mean, it's been scientifically proven that serial killers are in the genius range of intellect," George's indignant voice said from under him. Obviously she hated the idea of being thought of as another dumb criminal. Now that he stopped and reflected on it, he hated it as well, and also knew that there was no way in the system to call the red head under him dim.

Riddick let a small quirk of a sneer come to his features as the looming elevator came closer into reach. His silver eyes locked onto it though his mind was working through what his partner had said. Through their past affiliation in this hole conversation had started to flow slightly easier, not to where it could be considered anywhere near normal banter, but it was to the point where they could converse and not just sit and stare at each other for long periods of time with nothing to blurt out. He'd also found that despite the foul mouth, angry at the world attitude, and over all sour disposition that George was actually very witty and smart and could hold her end of a talk just as well as anyone else could. It was making her see you as an equal that was the problem. "Guess that makes me a genius," he commented blithely.

George made a small scoffing noise from under him but she agreed half heartedly. He knew that she was indebted to him for this little escape, an escape that she wouldn't have been able to think of on her own, so that meant he was indeed on some levels a very smart man. A smart man that hated to be shackled. His fingers finally reached up and latched onto the cold metal of the elevator bottom, a small relieved breath coming from his chest.

With a tug he pulled himself up and over the edge, landing onto the moving platform silently. He listened to George climb up the side for a second before turning to the control consol, rubbing a hand over his bald head. He scanned over the glowing buttons and scanners, showing the level they were at, in the double max, and ETA on making it up to the top. With a grunt the woman he was working with came to his side, peering around his massive arms and staring casually at the buttons he was now pushing with a casual nonchalance. With a lurch the machine started to move upwards at a slow pace, sparks flying from the joining to the side and a humming filling the air around them.

Turning from the panel he settled himself against it to watch George who was at the edge of the rising elevator, her hands on her hips, and watching the red flashing of the double max vanish into the normal bleakness of the single max. He wanted to know what she was in for. He knew what he was, of course, because he had killed more people than he could count and a good majority of those being hit jobs on very important people. If you wanted someone dead, really dead, with no possibility of betrayal, then you hired Richard B. Riddick. And more often than not those hits had been political. He was the most wanted man in the entire Alliance for what he'd done. Several systems thrown into anarchy, thrown over governments, because of his actions, but as long as Riddick got paid he could care less about those systems. He blended into chaos anyway. If people were too scared for their own asses they didn't tend to notice him walking down the street.

"If all this goes off without a hitch," George suddenly turned and stared him down with those intense brown orbs. She shifted to where her guns were against her sides and her arms were crossed over her chest in an attempt to look intimidating, as if what she was about to say was not open for discussion. Intrigued he leaned his head forwards, regarding her with the shine of his eyes, his eyebrows furrowing lightly. She rolled a shoulder before stating with a slightly blank look to her features, "I want to go to the Ihram system. I have business to attend there," was all she muttered before turning back to watching their ascent.

His curiosity in that moment was piqued. There wasn't much in the Ihram system, not much at all. It was seen as a desolate deluge of the lowest of the low, scum of the universe, and swarming with mercs. That system was, in a way, their home base, and he wondered in that moment what could possibly possess her to want to go there of all places. The chances of her getting caught and sent back to a slam were high if she decided to go, and he didn't want to see her picked up and thrown back down here. Not that it was any of his business. It wasn't his fight… but he respected George on several levels and did not like the idea of her giving up the goose. He was going to ask her what the hell she could desire there when he glanced upwards with a sharp intake of breath. The air was starting to get cleaner, more sustainable, and that was their cue. They could finish this chat later, it was time to climb down onto the bottom.

George glanced over to Riddick and when he nodded with those goggles now pulled over they proceeded to opposite sides of the elevator. Holding onto the railing he descended down the side, going at a steady and firm pace. With the thing moving it was harder to climb over it this way, but if it stopped then there was sure to be warning bells sounding in the wardens brain above, not to mention if the thing lurched and he wasn't ready then he would fall down to the bottom of the prison and would be dead on impact. He lowered himself farther and then gripped onto the cords and wires that hung beneath, wrapping his hands in the thick bundles and then bringing his feet up to hook into some support frames that were attached the wall they were gliding up. He didn't need to look to know that George had gotten down as well; he could smell the bloodlust that was radiating off of her. They were in place now… it was just waiting. The calm before the storm was always the tensest. But the good thing here was that they had the element of surprise on their side.

Air was now coming into both of their nostrils as crisp, clean, cold; fresh… it was so much better than the stifling staleness that they had been living in for so damn long. They were going faster now and it would be only a matter of minutes, maybe even seconds. The rings of the single max were going by in a blur of motion, faces and bodies of the inmates stopping to stare in befuddlement blurring into one mass of rusted red, flesh, and wide white. With a small click the elevator began to slow and when at last the rings vanished and all that was around them was rock and stabilizing bars of new metal, shining with health, it came to a jarring halt. The suddenness of no motion took Riddick a second to get used to but that was repressed the minute that his ears picked up on murmuring and confusion laced in the scent of the area.

George glanced over to him, her mouth in a firm line though there was a wicked gleam to her features. He held up a hand, pushing it down palm side and she shot him a dirty look but nodded all the same. They needed some of the idiots on here before they cut the support and sent them to their deaths. Riddick and George however moved silently from the bottom and gripped onto the support bars near by, using their hands and feet as braces, and waited.

"What the fuck is this? Where're the others, man?" one guys voice suddenly sounded indignant.

Shuffling of a multitude of feet told Riddick that they were dealing with a good fifteen people, not including the mercs that were still on their ship. At least it wasn't twenty… less was always good when it came to these things. Guns were being moved around restlessly and he could sense that the people above him could tell something was wrong.

"I dunno, maybe they accidentally hit a button or something and it left 'em down there?" the sound of someone younger, much younger than the first, offered sheepishly. There was a chorus of scoffs and berating of how the idea was idiotic before the person before spoke up, obviously the leader of the armored men.

"I don't think so. Somethin' ain't right here, gents. Someone check on them, use the comm's," the gruff and gravely voice stated sharply.

"Why don't a few of us just use the lift to get down there and ask them what's up?" another guy muttered, sounding more sure of himself than the kid before him.

There as a pause, a heavy, thick, and anticipatory pause that made Riddick's skin crawl. His mind was shifting into the killer mode, detached, ready to shed blood without a second thought on it. Riddick the animal was coming out in full, hackles raised, angry and pissed about being locked up in a cage for so long, and ready to rip out all of these guys throats to get to freedom. In the calm of the guards debating what to do, waiting for their captain to make up his mind, Riddick could almost feel the rippling coming off of his body, his excitement growing to expounding levels.

Finally, with a sigh, the captain waved a hand and dispatched some of his troops over to the waiting lift. And to their waiting death. Silver eyes met with brown through dark goggles and both nodded, listening to the men clamber onto the elevator, their heavy boots clanging against the thin metal platting. When there was a satisfactory number aboard and when the lift began to lurch forwards to go downward, both criminals raised their shiv's and slashed through the support hose and wires with easy swings. The thing stood still for a moment and let out a pathetic whine, shuddering and sputtering against the sudden change. The men all stopped and stared at each other, murmuring in fear of the lifts behavior, before it dropped down completely. It plummeted down far faster than he would have thought it would, falling with the weight of all those aboard and from the lack of any and all railings to the walls. Screams were heard as the men were either knocked off or were trying valiantly to hold onto the railing that would drag them to their ends.

Before the crash underneath could even sound Riddick had flipped over the platform and onto the ground to stare down at the now eleven guards, his gun drawn and his eyes gleaming wickedly. Georgie came up next, pulling out her weapon immediately and opening fire, her teeth bared in a marvelous way and fire erupting from the tip of the automatic. Bullets rained in through the air and though a few had the common sense to draw their weapons and start to fire back those were the first to fall from shots to the throat or chest, hitting hard and causing plumes of red to splutter from the opened holes. Riddick started to open fire as well on those remaining, backing up and taking cover behind a boulder when the stunned men got their business together and started to return fire. He spotted George roll over to sheet of rock that had undoubtedly caved in recently, her guns held in both hands and that same killer look on her face.

Shocks of rock were flying by his face and the pungent scent of gun powder filled the air around them. He span around on his rock and opened fire, taking out another two guards while a bullet whizzed by his arm and opened up a small, burning scratch. George had turned as well with her plasma, fully charged, and fired into the midst of the enemy, a sneer spreading over her face. The charge of blue and green hit two men in the side simultaneously, ripping through their flesh and opening up gaping, gushing red wounds, causing the men to gasp and fall to their knees, griping the fatal injuries. He hid back down after his short round and started to charge up his gun as well, watching the gauge carefully.

"Shit, fucking shit, it's Riddick!!"

"No, fucking, duh moron! Just kill him!"

"Them, soldier, kill them! Kill the girl too damn it!"

The gun fire was deafening. It was ripping at his ear drums, but luckily just as quickly as they had opened fire it was dying to mere clicks of confusion. The idiots had been firing the entire time, too scared to take their fingers off of the triggers. Riddick popped up and fired his plasma pulser quickly before drawing out his shiv's and moving into the fray. They all looked up bewildered; all but a few who had drawn out their own weapons, those damn sledge hammers as well as a few that had their own knives in their fingers. Hand to hand was his specialty; there would be no survivors…

Riddick moved like liquid glass, his moves solid and defined, as he stalked towards them slowly and calculated, then stopped all together and held his hands out by his sides, weapons gleaming threateningly. There was a stand off for about two seconds, the guards staring in confused and frightened silence, each of them shuffling around and glancing to one another. Finally, someone got foolish; someone got cocky, and charged at Riddick with his knife drawn and seeking to cut a pound of flesh from the killer. Bad move. That was all tha the needed to start, was one idiot that would start the momentum to end all of this and finally get out of this place.

He span around, using the force of the spin to bring the shiv into the man's throat without him even seeing the flash of metal, and slashed sideways and downwards, slicing clear through the trachea and cutting through all of the important blood ways. Red spewed from his neck and he fell to the ground with a gasp and sputter, his eyes wide and red starting to seep from his lips now as well, coughing and gripping at his fatal wound in shock. Riddick didn't stop, he was moving forwards, running, and barreled into the nearest guard that had moved to strike him with the hammer. He stopped the attack with a forearm, not even wincing when he felt the muscles beneath the surface shudder and cry out in agony, but instead brought a shiv right up the man's face, through the roof of the mouth at the cleft and ripped upwards right through the cartilage in the nose, cutting every single muscle. A scream erupted from the injured man's throat but Riddick turned and snapped his neck in a single, flowing movement, before kicking a man that had been charging him from the side in the stomach.

His eyes caught a flash of rusted red and noticed George ducking, cutting one man's leg and then burying her dagger into his stomach, then his liver, and wrenching her blades out, kicking him to the ground and turning to the next man, holding her arms up in a block when he moved to strike her down with his own knife, cutting through the skin on her arms but not anything incredibly damaging. Riddick turned and cut the guy that he had just assaulted in the side, then used him to turn around his back and stabbed him right in the sweet spot. Blood erupted like a volcano from the main vessel of the lumbar system and for a moment Riddick watched in satisfaction as the guard fell down and was dead before he hit the metal of the platform. Pulling his shiv out the hardened man didn't waste time to thrust it backwards, stabbing right into a soft patch of someone's stomach, the shadow of their attacking form having given them away.

George punched one man in the jaw with her knife in hand, cutting him along the bone and causing a cry of torture to rip from his chest before the second one was buried in her favorite spot, right in the jugular, where it would slice through the thin skin and would end his life in seconds. With the thudding of the body she somersaulted away from someone with a sledge hammer and turned, holding up her charging plasma that was still on her side and shot right between his eyes. The energy shattered his head into quarters, severing it clear off of his shoulders, and skull went flying. Brains splattered the ground along with the globed and soaring crimson life, and then the headless body fell to the ground with a thunk. She turned with some of the red having hit her on the face, a small piece of brain matter on her hair, before she snarled and punched a man in the gut, walking forwards to the opening of the tunnel with a purpose set in her blazing brown eyes. Spinning her blade in her hand she punched the gasping man again, only this time her dagger was piercing the muscle wall just above the belly button and striking the bladder with practiced precision, causing the sack to burst and to release the poison and the blood held there to seep into the now mortally wounded man's body.

Ripping the weapon out produced the most wonderful slurping noise and by this time she was right behind Riddick, if not a few degrees to his left, and there were only a few guards left, maybe seven, and they were all locking like cornered rabbits. She came stalking over to his side, her body relaxed and a disturbingly cold, detached look on her face, betraying her as the killer she was trained to be. "Survivors…?" she muttered, making sure that the soft question was loud enough for the remaining to hear.

Riddick turned to her with a grim sneer, his shiv spinning in his hand. "No," was all he stated.

The majority ran at George first. They assumed she was weaker, that she would be taken out easily because she was a woman. They were wrong… The second someone was close enough, her body still relaxed and in place, her hand thundered out and gripped a man's throat. Leg sweeping behind him, hitting the Achilles tendon with a sharp jab of her boot, he fell to the ground with a shocked cry, before her hand grabbed a flailing leg at the knee, stabbed behind it in a swift motion, severing the muscles there with a deft twist, before twisting it and slamming her knee down into other thigh, her knife coming down into one of his eyes with a grunt. Her blade met with resistance at the back of the socket before rupturing the wall and piercing into the brain. Pulling out she turned and sliced a man across the stomach that had thought to distract her from a mere seconds long attack, deep enough to penetrate the wall and cause his innards to flood out in a sickening slopping noise. He was writhing on the floor when he hit, his brain having not caught up to the fact that his body was gone beyond repair as it ordered more blood to hemorrhage out of the hole.

A stupid kid had moved to punch him, and so Riddick decided that it was time to show just how good at hand to hand he was and how much training he had in the field of any martial arts. He moved the punch aside, after ducking to the side, and slammed his other wrist into the man's neck, right into the center and caused his Adam's Apple to crush wickedly, his voice caught in his neck by a wheeze, agony showing on his paling face. Riddick swept a leg under him, attacking the weakness of the back of the knees. He stabbed through a knee cap before punching the man in the stomach, winding him, and then brought his shiv down into the kid's man hood, slicing clear through shaft and sack, and watching as his eyes watered, widened, and then shut in a silent scream. Riddick stood and turned to the next man, knowing that the kid would bleed out from the demoralizing shot. He caught the next by his fist and twisted it until he heard the crack he was hoping for, moving just as he would have been stabbed but getting a grazed cut anyway, before slamming his fist up against his nose, forcing the cartilage into his head to pierce his brain. Grey matter drizzled from the wound while a glazed and dazed look came over the guards face.

Riddick span around and stabbed a guy in arm, twisted it, and then ran his shiv all the way up from his forearm along the major vein and watched as the guy screamed and held the wound, his eyes wide. The next second he passed out and within minutes he would die. The sounds of scuffling soon died down and he glanced over towards George, panting and the thrill of battle still gripping his body in firm, icy, exciting fingers. She had just dispatched of the last guy after pulling his knife from her shoulder and using it to cut upwards from his navel to his breast bone, at blank look on her features as the intestinal wall severed and the large and small came barreling out onto the ground. With the final guard gone she stood there, panting, her arm drizzling blood and several splatters of others on her shirt, before she turned to him with a wide eyed look. Insane… crazy… all things he would categorize that stare as, but he knew that it was just the way that her adrenaline was going through her body, how her fingers and toes were tingling, and how her body was refusing to acknowledge the stab. Riddick was sure if his goggles hadn't been on he would look somewhat the same. He could feel the drying stick of others life on his arms and shirt, one even on his pants, and could feel the burn of some small injuries.

"Where the fuck's the warden?" she murmured suddenly and straightened, her eyes narrowing darkly. Spell broken Riddick glanced around slowly, merely turning his head, and surveyed the dead littering the ground and causing the metal to run slick with crimson.

Riddick too scowled when he noticed the pig man wasn't here. "Leave it, he's not important to the plan," he stated simply.

"You're kidding! He's the one that put us down there!" George shouted indignantly, her eyes wide with disbelief. He shook his head and moved towards the open tunnel and where the small cart was still located. He heard his partner growl warningly but follow anyway, her teeth grinding and her form giving off boundless rage towards him. Riddick didn't care. As long as they got off this rock then the damn warden could stay alive if he damn well wanted. The only question was where he was at since his guards had been here in such force…

"He's at the ship," he concluded aloud and George froze in her climbing of the stairs onto the cart. He could feel her stare boring into his back and he turned, giving her a quirked eyebrow and a sharp stare through his dark goggles. He gazed at her until she finally just jutted out her lower jaw and looked away, continuing upwards and standing in the middle with him. A few punched buttons and taking a seat on the small benches that must've come with the merc's detachable cargo floor, and the thing lurched forwards.

George sat down across from him, her gaze now distant. Undoubtedly thinking of the business she had to attend to… he wondered just what that was again. They had a small ride, maybe five minutes, so he supposed he could spend some time brooding and readying his body for a second fight with possibly a six or seven man crew of mercs, maybe less.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"_You can't keep doing this Richard. Do you want to end up some whacked up crazy man in a Slam with nothing to look forward to than seeing rock walls everyday?" Chocolate brown eyes lifted up from their bored position of scanning the tiled floor beneath them. The man that was talking was a guidance councilor, sitting behind a massive desk and staring at him imploringly, his hands opened in a sign of truce, but he knew better. They were all alike. All of them. They were afraid of him, always, they hated him, they all did… and they also couldn't hold him here. _

_Richard shifted against the chair he was in, his fifteen year old form long and lean and showing the coming powerful frame that would soon come with diligence and a life on the run. He scowled at the man before stating, "what makes you think they'd be able to keep me there?" _

"_Riddick… listen, do you know the chances of getting out of a Slam?" the councilor pleaded. But Riddick wasn't listening, he was now staring out of a window at the stars above, the stars that held his ticket out of here. He had robbed a store, with a few buddies, and had beaten up some jerk that had tried to take his money on the street. The money he had just stolen. It wasn't his fault that the guys face was too frail to stand up to a few punches, that his nose had been broken along with his jaw and cheek. But here he was, Richard B. Riddick, delinquent and over all bad guy, found in a trash can when he was a baby with a cord around his neck, bumped foster home to foster home on New Germany, France, and Spain, and now here, on a space station for Juvenile correction. Too bad they were wasting their time. _

_He had tried once. He really had. He had tried to stop the raging that went on within his skull, the screaming, the roaring of the animal that lived in his veins… but there was an anger within him that couldn't be controlled. It was like this anger, this fury, was indefinable, and therefore whenever he had tried to tell the councilor before him about it he had been put on meds, so he had stopped talking about it, and the rancor grew. Now… Riddick had learned to mask it to some extent, but it was still there… whispering, telling him to do horrible things. And now, now that he knew he couldn't shut it up, he listened and wondered if it would be so bad if he did what it asked, what it wanted, what it demanded. After all, what was a single life when there were billions out there in the universe, hundreds of billions, maybe even trillions? One life meant nothing. His life… meant nothing. _

"_All right, all right, I get it," Riddick snapped and stood, putting his hands into his baggy black cargo's and cocked his head to the side. "Can I go now?" _

_The councilor sighed and rubbed his temples. He had taken on Richard as a personal case, saying that he reminded him of himself when he was younger. The only problem was, no one understood, no one ever would, so it was pointless. "Yes, Riddick, you can go. Just don't beat on Bobby again; he hasn't recovered from last week just yet." _

XXXXXXXXXXXXXX

The cart came to a slow stop, screeching against the rusting bars beneath it. The tunnel they had been traveling down at a fast, blurring pace, now opened up to the hanger haul of Brigitus S.8 where prisoners arrived and mercs did their business with the owner of the Slam. It was filled brimming with boxes and containers of food, food that Riddick or George had hardly seen in the past few months, and weapons to keep them all in line, as well as parts for the cryo beds down stairs in the triple max. What would have usually been a massive hole within the boxes and containers was a medium sized merc ship that was in fair condition. The outside haul was a greenish color with markings and the name scrolled beneath one of the four wings. The wings each held gunner stations for shooting net rounds to catch the fugitives they were chasing, and there were six large interspatial engines coming off of the back of the surprisingly sleek vessel. It would be fast for its size, both could tell just by looking at it. Now the question was how many mercs were aboard…

The two exited off the of cart carefully, coming behind a tower of boxes and glancing around the corner towards the entrance of the ship, where a step ladder lead down to the ground. Upon the metal stairs stood the form of the pig man, holding a cigar in his hands, and waving around what looked to be a briefcase, looking somewhat peeved. The mercs captain was standing at the top of the stairs, shadowed partially by the opening into his ship, and was shaking his head. Obviously there was a disagreement on how much to get paid for this particular inmate. If the merc wanted… he could just take the inmate back, he wasn't entered into the books yet, and by all means it was in their rights. The Alliance was surprisingly on the side of its mercenaries most of time, even though they were hardly better than the escaped convicts and bounties that they chased.

"It's a fair price! Take the damn money," the warden bellowed.

"No, not for this fine fella. Do you know who he is? He's a political assassin! He's wanted on over four planets and his head is worth as much as I want, a million and no less," the merc captain stated smoothly. The captain looked like a merc, that was for sure, with greasy, long black hair that was tied back in a sloppy pony tail, and baggy, unkempt clothing. Riddick could smell him from here. He could also see the gun that was glimmering in his fingers, held loosely, just in case the discussion got out of hand.

George shifted next to him, her eyes focusing on the scene. This would take some maneuvering. How to kill the warden and the captain and still keep the element of surprise to kill the others? Would the element have to be taken out completely and just enter into a melee? Not that he minded, but it would be much easier to just slip in somehow, kill everyone, jettison the bodies when they were in space, and then head off to Ihram where he could drop off George before making his way to wherever he wanted to go. Either way, this was a fairly large merc ship, much larger than the one they had been brought here on, that meant more people, and that meant the more chance to get injured. Oh well… a ship that size always had a med bay. The girl bleeding next to him needed it already.

"How're we gonna do it?" she murmured next to him, slinking up to where she was just barely covered by the boxes. Her body was thrumming with bloodlust, he could tell, and the need and promise of freedom was radiating off of her in thick, heavy waves. A caged animal ready to be released.

"Wait…" he stated softly, pushing her back behind him. He could hear the disgruntled noise she made but ignored it.

"Jesus, c'mon, Riddick! It's right there!" George hissed in his ear, coming up close behind him so that her words wouldn't reverberate through the massive hold.

"Just wait…" he demanded again and she fell back, leaning against the cold surface of a metal container, her eyes watching the scene with a sidelong, penetrating look. Riddick took a moment to shift silently before settling down into a more comfortable crouch.

"Eighty thousand is a perfectly good price. I don't need your prisoner, I have two high rollers in here already, and some million priced jerk off isn't worth jack shit compared to one of 'em," the warden said with a sickening sneer on his face.

This piqued the mercs attention and he raised his eyebrows on his pocked face. He leaned forwards on the stairs, "oh really…? Way I see it, there are only a few worth more than this fucker, and the way you're smilin' makes me think it's only one guy. How did you manage to get that fucking shit head…? Richard B. Riddick…?" the mercenary stated with an equally smug sneer.

"None of your business. Now, are you willing to come down off of your price?"

"Nah…" the merc thumbed his chin before pointing the gun, his smirk never leaving his face. With a blast of fire and molten metal the warden's back was ripped open, a river of red shooting after the hole, and the pig man gasping with shock. He fell backwards off of the stairs and began to roll downward, making a series of cracks and crunches that could mean only broken bones to add to his through and through killing shot. With a snap he landed on his neck and the man died at the bottom of the stairs, leaving a red trail behind him and a smirking merc with a smoking gun. With that taken care of the captain turned into the ship and shouted something neither could hear.

"I wanted to do that," George swore in his ear again.

"Hold on… here it comes," Riddick was good at spotting what a certain personality trait would do. The captain of this ship was a greedy fucker, he wanted only money, and if he couldn't get what he wanted, he had no problems killing, especially if something bigger and better came his way… and that just happened to be Riddick, who everyone thought was still down in that hole, not next to a tower of boxes, waiting for the right moment…

Slowly, single file down the stairs, emerged the form of six different mercs, laughing their heads off at the body at the bottom of their walk way. Their eyes were glimmering with greed and avarice, ready to take the one prisoner in the universe that they could demand twenty million for. There were five guys and one really butch looking woman with a shaved head that reminded him slightly of Jack, a gun over her shoulders and a steely look to her blue gaze. There was only two options in a moment like this. Let them leave and go down into the prison, look for him in the double max, find he wasn't there, and come back only to find that their ship was gone along with several boxes of materials here, or… kill them all. If he let them live then they could always get another ship out of here and track down the serial number and name, using the navisystem on the new ship with little difficulty and pick up the ion trail. If he killed them that solved that problem and they were home free. It was almost not even a question.

George was getting tense next to him. They were both thinking the same thing it appeared, and both were ready with their blades drawn as the mercs headed in their direction towards the cart. It would be simple now that they still had the ability to ambush, simply come up behind them when they had passed, were puzzling over how the cart had gotten here by itself, and then just take them out while they were stunned to see Riddick there. Sometimes the shock and awe aspect of his reputation worked so well to his advantage…

The captain was the first to go by them and the two shifted to where they were almost glued to the shadows of the boxes, both orbs watching intently. Soon the very last merc had headed by them and were heading towards the cart, laughing and waving their guns around. Cocky sons of bitches… Riddick thought. When they were standing before the platform he and George were already moving behind them, her form slightly behind his, and their steps as quiet as possible. His eyes narrowed behind his goggles and soon he was right behind the first victim, unaware while they were now looking with tilted and pursed looks at why the cart was here when it had been sent back when the warden had come to negotiate. A large hand grasped over the first ones mouth, silencing and muffling any screams, and the shiv did the rest of the work, slicing through the man's neck like it was butter. He held up the body from making a thud as he watched George come behind the navigator, a scrawny little kid, no older than nineteen, and covered his mouth with a firm hand. The glint of her knife disappeared into his back, right into the spinal column, and he watched as the boys eyes rolled up in his head and his legs collapsed under him, useless in death.

However, the smell of blood was too strong for the other four mercs to ignore and they turned, confused and stunned, and stared upon the escaping convicts. Riddick was the first to drop his body and come to a full, intimidating standing, pulling up the goggles and showing off his glowing silver eyes and the full brunt of his personality.

"Holy… shit… is that who I think it is??" the captain muttered. Riddick stared on as the mans mind sluggishly tried to comprehend this sudden change in situation. Then, he spotted that same glimmer, that spark of 'I can't believe my luck'. He was thinking that he was going to be the richest merc in history, go down in the books for taking out Riddick and finally getting the man that no one else was able to. He couldn't' believe that he had not had to go down into the actual prison and that the convict had come right to him. Screw the dead men that were now on the ground, and screw the red head that was behind him, and the fact that both of the killers were emanating death, this was the chance of a lifetime! Riddick felt sorry for him, almost…

"Boo," Riddick hissed and was running at them, his shiv's by his side and a threatening look on his face. The burly girl ran by him and went straight for Georgie girl behind him, taking out what looked to be a huge machete from the side of her leg.

George watched the big chick come towards her and scoffed, spitting to the side before dodging to the side when she tried to hit her with the large blade. She moved to the side again when she tried to hack away at her, bringing her dagger to her side to stop the attack right at the tip and scrapped all the way up the blade, causing sparks to come off of the metals, and came within an inch of her face, brown eyes sparking with blue. "Wrong person to pick a fight with," George said simply and then turned around on the girls back by the time she figured out was going to happen, grabbing her shoulders and kicking her hard with her heel into the back of her tendons on her knees, forcing her down to the ground.

The red head circled her for a split second then brought her heel down in a drop kick right into the center of the woman's back when she was struggling to get up, causing the bones to snap and a screech to form from her throat. With her paralyzed George smirked darkly, her knives spinning in her long fingers directly. "Do I want to kill you…?" she crouched down in front of the terrified looking woman, her head cocked to the side. She put her shank's edge to her right temple and started to press the blade into the skin, watching as a small ribbon ran down the paled skin. "Give me a reason not to," she purred at the failing merc, her brown eyes sparking with slaughter.

"I, I," the woman didn't get to finish because George stabbed her deftly in the back of the neck, cutting off all function to the brain. She stared at the pretty blue eyes as they slowly glazed over with a thick white film, her breath starting to turn into something rank, and the body convulsing for a second.

"I hate mercs," George said with a laugh before standing, rolling her shoulders. She glanced over her shoulder towards where Riddick stood in the center of a circle of bodies, pulling his goggles back down. She waited for him to stride passed her and onto the stairs to follow him, finally starting to feel the throb of her arm through the bliss that was the agony of battle. She would have to treat that soon… but first thing first, she thought, time to get off this rock…


	10. Chapter 10 Headaches

**Chapter ten: **

**Headaches **

Space was beautiful. It always had been. No matter how many times she took off into its depths and was forced into the quietude that it possessed she was always awestruck by how powerful and vast it was… Floating pitch blackness with studded stars, shinning and shimmering in the far distance, each one of those stars a system and each of those systems with planets and life of its own. It was hard to imagine that there was that much life out there, that there was once a time when the world didn't think that there was anything out here, out in the vast vacuum that made her feel like she was home… The jewels that hung around them were wise, ancient, older than she would ever be, had seen the birth and death and new races coming into the fray far more times than she could even start to understand. There was nothing like the brilliance of space to calm her down and make her life feel so small that she felt like an insignificant speck in the grand scheme, whatever the hell that was. Not to mention… now she was finally out among the spaces and planets and stars once more after six months on a desolate planet in a Slam, starving and weakening steadily over the days. Freedom had never tasted so sweet…

Her thoughts turned darker as she lowered her head and stared down at the controls next to her. She still had things to take care of. Now that she was out of Brigitus then there was the little matter of the man that had snitched her location out, and then there was also the merc that had caught her, and then the job that she had left undone by getting caught. There was also… the matter of her brother. She winced and put a hand to her forehead when a throb of angry pain ran through her temples, threatening to make her remember her humanity and to make start to have a migraine. She got them, yes, but most of the time it was a simple question of mind over matter when it came to these. They stemmed from her refusal to go back, refusal to accept her old reality, and immersing herself in who she was now; an animal, a killer, someone that the rest of the universe despised. Better to be despised than to bend, she thought bitterly.

Her brother's familiar face came crashing into her thoughts and the twenty five year old woman drew her knees up to her chest, scowling darkly. His betrayal ran deep in her soul and was slowly turning it black, seeping poison into it that was only equal to her hatred of the necromongers. How could Noah do such a thing? She had done her best. She had done her fucking best to provide for them! George slammed her palm to her forehead to stop the pain that was now pounding through there, memories of her childhood, of helping her brother, of running with his little hand in hers from their dying planet just as the Necroshit's took it over. That was over with, that life was gone!

Deciding that thinking on this was only going to cause needless pain and agony she turned her attention back to the void of space. Almost instantly she felt the rush of cool and calming throughout her form, her head slowly becoming less indignant, and the past falling from her body like a piece of clothing. Tossed aside, forgotten, on the floor and trampled on where it should be. Next to her she could hear Riddick pressing buttons still, plotting their course and glancing up at the signals and readers that were ahead of them. She wondered just where he had learned to pilot so well. She hadn't even began to think of what brand this ship was, what model, what year, what kind of engines it would have, and what kind of cells it would run on, when he was at the front in a flash and was switching things on and had it purring like a cat within minutes. All she had to do was strap into the copilot's chair and brace herself for the blast off.

She also wondered… how the hell had someone caught him? He was _the_ Riddick after all; some illusive shadow on the wall, that no one could get a grasp of. From the small scar on the back of his head she had spotted a few times she supposed that it was because they had played dirty. She supposed you had to in order to catch a killer, including herself. She was still peeved off that she had been so stupid as to want to hunt down a wolf rather than buying a pelt. The thrill of the hunts was fantastic, yes, but her liberty and livelihood were not worth the risk. Arrogance was a hard lesson learned.

Finally, after a few hours of baited silence, listening to the engines hum and Riddick work diligently to turn them toward the Ihram system while at the same time trying his best to mask their ion trail, George heard him shift in his chair and lean back, a sigh lifting from his chest. Yet another escape, she thought with a grin. What was it like to be Riddick and have escaped every single slam you've gone to? Did it make you confident? Or was every escape as harrowing as the first? She knew she would never know the inner workings of his mind, just like he would never know hers… they would never get that close after all. All they were now were former inmates and occasional fuck buddies. As soon as she was in Ihram they would separate and she would be nothing more than a memory. She would do what she did best, the only thing she knew how to do… she would leave. Then again, there wasn't any reason to stay after all. It wasn't like her and Riddick actually meant anything to each other.

"What planet ya heading to in the Ihram, Georgie?" his deep and gravely voice broke through her contemplation and she jerked her head in his direction, her eyebrows raised in surprise that he had been the one to break the terse silence.

Georgina put a finger to her lip, tapping it there in thought, before she sighed and ran a hand through her loosed and wild hair. "Ihram four, Pletiam, I have a snitch to talk with," her face darkened and she could feel it. Her anger had not subsided over the months but gotten worse. Oh she was going to kill the fucker, slowly, torture him, make him suffer.

Riddick nodded, his goggles still on his head and staring at her with those fascinating silver eyes. She wondered… why his eyes were silver. Sure, she had heard what a shine job did, essentially, but that didn't account for the paradoxical coloring it had become. Or, were those the natural color? When he noticed her inspection he quirked a brow at her in that cocky way that only he could do and not get smacked.

"See something you like, Red?" he questioned in a deep purr that he knew would get shivers to go down her spine. And sure enough they did. She grumbled at him and waved her hand dismissively, turning back to space and tilting her head, watching the stars in the distance.

"It can drive you crazy… staring out at space like this… That's what they say at least, I've always liked it. The fact that no matter how far you go, there's still so much, you can never get to the end of it all, there will always be more stars, more systems, more galaxies. Space in infinite, space is like change, it's the only constant there is in life," George suddenly found herself spilling. When it was out she cast him a sidelong look, gauging his reaction. She had never really held a conversation deeper than 'we're getting out and this is how' with the burly man near her. She pondered how he would handle it.

Riddick blinked a few times at her before turning back to the darkness that awaited them outside, the only light for hundreds of thousands of millions of miles that of the stars and the dimmed ones of the ship. She watched the way that his jaw twitched in a way that she had come to know as him thinking deeply on something and found herself brimming with pride at coming up with something he had to brood over before answering. At least he wasn't as all knowing as he acted. She was starting to wonder if he was human at all.

"I can agree to that," he stated simply and George felt slightly disappointed. Then again, it was Riddick. What had she expected? Some kind of philosophical bull shit? George glanced at the charts and readings then pursed her lips.

He surprised her however by putting his arms behind his head, the thick muscles moving over the bone in a wave like pattern. She was enamored for a moment before his voice broke her daze, "though how crazy can you make people like us, Georgina?"

George froze in her spot and cast him a hideous, murderous, scathing glare, her lower jaw jutting out and her teeth showing in a powerful snarl. How the hell had he known her real name? The momentary fear that came when one was found out to be something they weren't was pressed down by overpowering, red hot anger at him for being so damn cocky as to use her real name right in front of her! She was about to start yelling at him before he gave her one of the cold, calculating, withering looks he gave to someone before he was about to shove a shiv in their back and she slammed her lips shut together, eyeing him suspiciously. "Why'd ya lie, girlie?"

George snorted ungracefully, rolling her shoulder before getting up with a huff. Flicking him off she stormed down towards the medic bay, where she could give her arm a good wrapping and cleaning before she set about raiding the female merc's clothing and taking a nice, long, hot shower with soap and shampoo. The last thing she needed was to drudge up the past when she was trying to forget it for good this time, much less tell it to someone that was no better than a perfect stranger.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"_What do you mean you're leaving?" George asked indignantly, shoving her hands into her pockets. Her brown orbs watched as her brother, a full fucking age of fifteen, stuffed his bag full of clothing and started to put prepared food stuffs and dehydrated meal plans into the growing container. She noted with a grim look that Noah appeared to have been planning this for some time… it was the kind of bag she took on her jobs. _

"_I mean I'm leaving, sis! I'm sick and tired of watching you go off and do god knows what. You don't think I haven't heard the news lately, that you're some thug, some killer for higher? What happened to being a-" he didn't get to finish his sentence before his sister, who was still taller than he, grabbed him by the collar and glared him down, her jaw in a tense and tight line. _

"_Everything I have done has been so that we can live in this apartment, so that we can eat, so that you can fucking have a life. Are you telling me that you would rather starve, be homeless, and watch each other slowly die out there, because you don't like what I do? Jesus Noah, do you know how pathetic you sound??" George snarled at her brother before tossing him away from her. She turned her back to him and ran a hand down her face, trying to calm her raging emotions. Betrayal was something bitter to swallow, even more so when it was family. That and she had yet to find the guy that had tipped off her last job and who had managed to shot her full of holes. She would find that guy and rip his throat out… _

_Noah grunted and slammed his fist down on a nearby table, rounding on his sister with fury in his eyes. He gestured to the several blood stains on the old jacket that her father had given her in their final moments with him on their home planet and then to the shinning silver daggers that still hung on her hips. His rage and annoyance, hurt and grieving, hung in the air like a visible curtain, separating them, and yet neither moved to draw it back, to reconnect… somehow, someway, they had both seen this coming. "Pathetic? You think it's pathetic that I hate that my sister goes out every night on some assassin mission, or leaves offworld, and I know what you're out there doing? You're killing people, Georgina, as in dead, as in they are no longer living! Do you know what you must be putting their families through? You're as bad as the Necro's!" Noah shouted at his sister, throwing his hands by his side finally. _

_When she stared at him as if he had stabbed her and ensured her own demise he winced and looked away, biting his lower lip in a habit he got from his older sister. She growled low in her throat and turned her back to him, closing her burning brown eyes with a snarl. She pointed to the door with a calloused finger, pointing the way out of the small apartment on Helion Prime, of all places, her shoulders shaking with both ire and sorrow. "Get out then, Noah. If you dislike it so much then go and find a way to support yourself. You're of age, after all," she snapped before walking off and slamming the door to her room. _

_Noah stood in the middle of the living room with a stunned but somber expression. He glanced down to his own hands, once so small, and remembered how big and strong Georgina's had felt when they fled, leading him away from certain death. Even now… she was so strong, and he felt so weak. The silence ripped through him as he glanced from the door to the apartment to the one his sister had slammed and finally came to a decision. She was right, after all. He was of age; technically he should have started out on his birthday and become his own man. So, he bent down and picked up his bag, gripping the handle hard, and made his way with leaden feet from the apartment and from his sister's life. With a click, the door closed, and the chasm opened. _

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

George bit into the end of the bandages, holding it in her teeth sternly, before she started to use her free hand to wind the white gauze around the still seeping red wound. She had cleaned it mere moments before and the bloody rag next to her, still reeking of alcohol and antiseptic ointment, was staring with violent red up at her. She focused at the task at hand, trying her best to apply the right amount of pressure with just one hand and not move her injured shoulder; years of practice of doing this very thing had made it like second nature. Yet today, her mind wasn't in it, and neither was her heart.

Damn Riddick… she thought with a grumble. When the bandage slipped again, over her small but hard shoulder and the wound was scrapped uncomfortably she hissed and tried again. With the same result she stopped and threw the gauze from her hand and kicked over the medical table next to her. If he had just let it rest, if he hadn't called her by her real name then this wouldn't be a problem! There were reasons why she wanted to be known simply as George, and not Georgina Collins, survivor of the Necromonger hordes, and yet another charity case of the state in the beginning. She was a survivor, she was a fighter, she was a damned murderer, and it was what she was good at. Georgina was dead… she had died with her first victim. Or was it that she had died when her planet had been taken over?

When she sunk back onto the bed, putting her forehead into her index finger and thumb, sweat running down the side of her face, she mentally began to recant just what had turned her into what she was now. Such painful memories were meant to be locked down with a key and chains, but no, not now, not after years of isolation. She didn't like people. They were too sporadic, too unpredictable, and too expendable, she hated them, and yet sometimes she wanted to integrate back, wanted to become someone normal and start over again. But she knew it was impossible. The animal in her wouldn't allow it, wouldn't allow her to be happy like that, and she was fairly sure that such a boring life would drive her insane and would make her just snap. No, the life of a killer, of a drifter, was the right one for her. Sometimes the universe created people like her for a reason, and she liked to think that she was a form of population control.

It was a copout, she knew it, but it was all she had. The med bay was dark and lit only by dimmed lights above her, dimmed because Riddick had said that after months of having his goggles on he needed to have them off for a while. She supposed she should thank him for not just telling the computer to turn the lights off completely. The only sounds throughout the entire metal grated floored area was that of the drip of a sink in the corner, using recycled water in a continuous loop, and that of her own panting breath. No windows improved the feel of being confined here, and she remembered all at once why she had always hated the med bay on any ship or even on a planet or station. They felt so sterile, so wrong, and so clean. It was ungodly to be that clean.

"Wasting perfectly good rubbing alcohol won't help that wound heal," George smirked bitterly at his gravely voice from the door to the bay. She glanced up, her eyes barely visible through her hair, though her form was dark and brooding. She sat there, hunched over, looking all the world like some kind of shade and violent creature, the kind that she was. She knew to anyone else she would look intimidating, she always did, but to Riddick it was like her appearance and her rep didn't phase him at all. She wondered if he had ever even heard of her.

George then scoffed and kicked the pan that was at her feet, the cold and biting liquid that had been used to clean her still stinging wound dripping from the metal bars. "Like I care. Not my ship, after all, baldy. As far as I'm concerned as soon as I reach my planet you can go off and do whatever the fuck it is you do, vessel and all. Now…" she glanced him over with a skeptical look, still untrusting of the massive wall of muscle. They may have helped each other break out of that damn place, but she still couldn't trust him as far as she could throw him. No one could be trusted, no such thing as a friend, even more so when that person was a criminal of Riddick's caliber. "What do you want?"

She saw Riddick frown from across the room and idly felt a small twinge of, what was that, regret? She hadn't felt that in a while. He came into the room with audible steps, and she knew that it was more for her state of mind than his and soon within seconds he was before her, arms crossed over his thick chest and silver eyes blaring down at her. This didn't' bode well. "What's your real name, girlie?" he demanded coldly.

George blinked a few times then scowled right back at him. "What should it matter?"

"Tell me, so I fucking know who is on my ship," he snapped back. Yet again she regarded him with unveiled menace, as if just seeing him for the first time, and she indeed felt this was a side of him she had yet to see. Angry, and angered at her.

George laughed out right, tossing her head back and feeling both the nerves of the situation, the elation of her escape, of the way Riddick was glaring at her, and of her own ripping past, push through her chest in a sickening and awful laugh that wouldn't stop. It hurt her ribs and caused her entire body to convulse from the shake and soon she was doubled over, trying to wipe the tears from her eyes from the strain. She didn't know why she was laughing, this wasn't a funny matter. The way Riddick was staring at her screamed her death if she didn't answer just right, but in some ways it was comical to think that it would be him that ended her life and over a name. Considering all that she'd done in her life she supposed that she would have died over something much worse. When she had finally calmed enough to where she could speak without wheezing she leaned back on the bed and sneered darkly at him.

"Why the hell would you want to know someone's shitted up life, especially one like mine? I mean, seriously, what else do you need to know other than I'm a wanted killer, escaped convict, female, and the one that you've been fucking twice every day for a good two weeks now? You know my first name, what I look like, what my rough age is, so then why not merely do it the hard way and get it from the net instead of me? It would be more cooperative," she promised and there was a sharp gleam to her eyes that Riddick caught easily.

He took a few steps towards her. George shut up and her smirk was wiped from her face, leaving only the same defiant and yet blank stare that she had learned to adopt when being stared down by Riddick and any other apex predator. She didn't dare move or breathe, she could see the glinting of his shiv, as if it were a living thing in and of itself, on the man's hip and could almost feel the malice rippling from off of his body. What had brought on this sudden surge of ire and ill will baffled her but she didn't even dare to think on it for that might cause her to blink and cut off the contest. Riddick's presence became choking again, became something so suffocating that she had a hard time focusing and her mind was fuzzing over with her own prey instinct.

Run, her mind was screaming, but the stubborn beast that she was roared for her to stay. She really needed to learn how to mediate between the two someday, it might keep her out of another slam.

Silver eyes pierced into her soul and George couldn't help but watch the slight swirling motion that happened when he was locked onto a target. As stupid as it was to think it while she was being pressed into the mattress by his stare and his entire form radiating violence like on the planet she wondered what it was like to see with those eyes. "I'm giving you a chance to tell me willingly, George. If you don't or won't fucking tell me I won't be as lenient as if you told me."

Georgina held in the urge to laugh nervously but instead wrinkled her nose in distaste of the situation. Caught between a rock and a sharp place she weighed the damages. Then it struck her, what damages? It wasn't like her and Riddick would see each other again, so what if he knew every single dark corner and detail of her morbid little life, who she was, why she was, what she was, and the cause of it all.

Deciding upon it the red head leaned back on her arms and cocked her head to the side, her small quirking smile fading quickly. "Georgina Collins and I'll damn well tell you when I fucking feel like it, Riddick. Until then, mind giving me a hand? I can't seem to make the wrapping stick," she grumbled and admitted her defeat to the wound that was still letting out small rivets of red.

The bald lion before her glared a moment before dropping down in a powerful crouch that showed all of the muscles in his arms and stomach moving from under his tank. She was reminded on how he moved purposefully slow when not in battle, as if drawing out each motion, making the most of it, like it would be his last. The true mind set of someone in their position. When you were hunted like a rat by mercs and other varieties of undesirables you learned to savor each moment as your last to some extent. Not to mention, his bulky frame hid a great speed that surpassed anything she had ever seen before. Riddick was truly the top of any food chain anywhere… and she loved the raw terror and fear that always knotted up in her stomach whenever he was around.

He came to a plopping sit next to her, grabbing her arm gruffly and still staring her in the eye. She knew this game and though it had long been established that she was weaker and the slightly more submissive one in this fucked up thing they had going she still stared back in defiance and rebelliousness. That was until his thumb pressed into the stab wound and she looked away with a hiss, gritting her teeth to the point of pain.

Momentary revolution squashed Riddick set about the task of working on her shoulder, where her collarbone met with her arm. The wound wasn't bad, it wasn't good, but it wasn't bad either. It wouldn't need stitches. It was enflamed and angry, dripping out blood and a clear liquid that would soon form the scab that would turn into, hopefully, not another scar. She tried not to think too much on how her body used to look before it was covered in these markings and instead focused on the soft, slightly grating gauze going over her skin in light layers. She stared down at the ground, refusing to watch Riddick work on her, and refusing to acknowledge the fact that without him closing the wound to the air then it would have gotten infected without a doubt, even in the sterilizes of space and her shots. The medical boosters could only stop so much and should her skin, of all things, get infected and spread into her blood… it wasn't a nice way to go.

The bald man's fingers grazed her skin as they worked and George was slightly startled that he was actually being gentle with the injury. The hand that was holding her arm in place was firm and even bruising, but the one that was wrapping the bandage and guiding it along was nothing short of tender and focused, like he was afraid to further aggravate the stab. He leaned down over the wrapping and she noticed out of the corner of her eye, when her sight betrayed her ill want to look at him, that when he was concentrating hard enough that he got a small vein that popped out just left of his temple. When the cotton was wrapped firmly in place he reached behind him to the table that had, somehow, righted itself upwards, and received the ACE wrapping that would go tightly around it and hold it there in a pressure bandage so as to keep all further swelling and possible bleeding to a minimal.

The silence that was around them slipped and slithered, and for the first time in a long while George found herself wishing Riddick would say something, anything. It was eerie, this king of expectant quiet. It wasn't calculating, it wasn't intimidating, it was just… waiting. But for what? Now, she had to think of her future, how she would stay out of another slam, and just where to go from the Ihram. When she felt the last of the ACE go on and the throbbing in her shoulder start to disappear she sighed gratefully before standing and flexing her fingers anxiously. Rolling the shoulder and hissing at the now sensitivity of the injury, now that the adrenaline and shock wasn't running through her, George hoped that it would heal by the time she got to that hole in the universe.

"How long until we reach the quadrant?" she murmured lightly, unnerved by the way that Riddick was still almost seething at her. Why, she didn't know. Sometimes she wondered if the man had bipolar.

Riddick stood with a grunt and pushed by her, purposefully hitting the injury he'd just closed up for her and causing the red head to snarl in the shiver of pain that racked down her body from it. When he was at the door he stopped and put a heavy hand on the frame, casting a glance back to her with his silver eyes narrowed sharply. "Two and a half months. We have to stop on a near by system to get supplies then we're going into cryo."

Cryo… George thought with a wrinkle of her nose, but nodded all the same. With the fellow convict gone she sank down onto the bed and laid there, staring up at the metal ceiling with a pursed look. She hated cryo, it felt wrong, like the machine had her body and not her. But she supposed it was better than spending two months awake and aware of everything, starving, they would go through supplies and life support much faster if they were awake. Then there was the question of why Riddick was acting so surly. He hadn't minded her name in the Slam hadn't cared in fact, had merely made fun of her by going by a guys name. But now it was like she had insulted him somehow by refusing to tell him her real, full name. He was an odd one.


	11. Chapter 11 Drifters

**Chapter eleven: **

**Drifters**

Riddick strode from the ships haul, his hands in his pockets and trying his hardest to blend into the crowd at the port as well as possible for his height and appearance. George walked a few steps behind him, her hands by her side and having put her hair up in a high ponytail, wearing a long sleeved pale green fatigue shirt with a pair of black cargos and new boots stolen from the dead merc who had just happened to be her size in just about everything. The shirt was just a little big. They were now stationed in a large space station hovering just over a large water planet occupied by some renegade elementals.

It was an all right station. It was as all others were, really, dingy, cramped, and filled with the smell of sex, drugs, booze, and gun powder. A real nice place to raise a family in. It was also this kind of place that Riddick did all of his info gathering if he needed to, and it would seem lately that he would need to. He had to know if it had been leaked already that he had escaped from the prison on Brigitus and just who was now after him; and there was the little problem with figuring out just who was behind him and what she had been sent to the Slam for. Surely for murder, he could tell that already, but for what kind? Was she a gun for hire? Could she be trusted at all? Should he just kill her now and launch her body into space? If only her body wasn't so damn warm and her personality so damn alluring to him he would have done it a long time ago.

Almost all stations were run and funded by the same first party. The alliance provided the stations with money and parts to stay afloat and police to patrol their corridors, assuming that the floating rat nests would be orderly and calm like the inner sanctum of planets and systems that made up the Council. However, the cops were corrupt and hardly any better than the criminals and mercs that docked at the ports and there was so much illegal activity that went on within the space stations hauls that it was almost dizzying in some respects. So much to do, like getting to a brothel, getting some haze, buy a few illegal guns, kill a few people, and then stock up and head out. It was almost like the Ihram system only on a much smaller scale, meaning it was lawless and filthy. Riddick, having just come out of the damn place, was sorely reminded of the prison they had busted out of just a few days before hand. Rust was on all of the unimportant parts, like railing, grips, and steel boxes, and there were women walking around in short skirts, fish net, and hardly there tops, ushering to the men that were coming off of merc or merchant ships, trying to make their buck for the night.

He could hear George behind him let out a clicking noise of disdain when they passed one of the women, entering into the main halls of the station. Her scent changed drastically when they were now within the darker parts of the station, into the area where they had to be very careful about how they went about things; it was sharper, crisper, darker. Just as he was glancing down the curved corridors that were littered with other people, all of whom were either smoking some suspiciously colored smoking joints or passed out on the floor and a bottle in their hands, one of the prostitutes came into his view.

She was a leggy creature with a thin waist and some of the largest, synthetic breasts he had ever seen. Long blond hair plumed down her shoulders and rested on the hills elegantly while her overly painted face and bright sapphire blue eyes stared at him with a calculating stare. He could tell he was being sized up, taken for how much he was worth, and then appraised like a piece of meat. Wearing nothing more than a very short piece of fabric trying in vain to pass as a skirt, red heels, tight little red leather corset, and had her thong straps sticking up from under the pathetic little bottom, she looked all the world like the streetwalker she was. The glimmer in her eyes told him that he had been deemed worthy and wealthy enough.

Her teeth exposed in a bright, almost charming smile, though there was a wicked and tired gleam to her eyes. "Hello there, handsome. You look like you could use some company," she purred at him in a husky deep voice that was surprisingly sexy. If Riddick had been the type he would have maybe considered her offer. But as it stood he was on business. He did, however, notice the sudden flare in offense and ire coming from the red head woman behind him.

George took a step passed him and leaned onto his arm heavily, almost possessively, while her snarling smile bared her fangs in a menacing and territorial way. "He's got company, darling," she said in a fake southern accent, her voice dripping with venom.

The prostitute suddenly glared at George as if she were the scum of the earth. The two glared each other down, slaughterer and whore, and Riddick found himself amused at the show of dominance and possessiveness coming from the fellow convict. Blond flipped over a delicate shoulder and the woman stated with a simpering grin, "Oh, but I meant pleasurable company… not that of a grease monkey woman that looks like she needs to shave her chin because she looks like a man."

Riddick flared his nostrils at the spike this sent into the air from George. He could sense anger, pure, murderous, dangerous fury, as well as hurt pride, and a mixture of something else that he wasn't expecting. Apparently the little spit fire was getting off telling some other woman to go fuck herself.

George pushed off of Riddick and came to stand before the woman, her hands on her hips and any and all smirks or grins gone from her face. There was the mask only of someone serious, ready, and willing, to end the woman before her, to take her life in a series of stabs and then let her just fade away. The lights flickered down onto the sea of rusted crimson that consisted of George's hair and the way that her toned arms and tanned skin shimmered with sweat from the heat of this place made the male lick his lips absentmindedly. There was a thick feeling to the air, heavy with bloodlust and the square down of a whore wanting money and a primal, feral cat woman protecting her territory for however long she had it. Riddick caught the glare of her daggers on her hips and could hear the thoughts going through her head of just slitting the leggy woman's throat.

"He's got all the company he needs, sweety. Trust me, you can't handle him," George came unnervingly close to the woman that was now staring at her in confusion, blue eyes wide. "He'd snap you like a twig. You're nothing compared to me… I've killed more people than you can count, what's one whore on one station trying to get my piece of ass gonna matter?" she whispered haltingly. Within a second her dagger was drawn and the blade pressing in a silent warning to the woman's revealed stomach.

"I'd take her serious. Red isn't a sane person," he breathed from behind George. The woman glanced at him in fear, her chest heaving with the sudden revelation that she was very close to death. Riddick merely nodded his agreement to her inner thoughts before putting his hands into his pockets nonchalantly.

The blond gasped and glanced down with a quivering, red painted lip before turning and running away as fast as she could in her four inch high heels. When the clacking ceased and George's heart sped down to a normal level, her scent returning to something between darkness and irk Riddick came behind her with a swell in his chest. "Didn't know you liked me that much, Red…"

George scoffed and swung her dagger around. He caught it with the side of his arm and grabbed her wrist before the blade could make contact though that didn't change the fact that her brown eyes were narrowed and focused on his hard through his blacked out goggles. Her face was still and her entire body rigid. The little pissing contest over she growled low and harsh, "while I'm fucking you, baldy, no one else is allowed to. I don't wanna catch some disease from some skank that gave you head or something," she snarled.

Riddick chuckled slightly but let her go. George drew back the gleaming blade before spinning it and putting it back in its holster, glaring sidelong at him then down the corridor. "Thought you had the shots," he observed cockily.

She scoffed again before turning away from him, crossing her arms over her chest and surveying the other prostitutes that were all staring at her with wide and fearful eyes. No one would be going after him again, he realized, at least not one that was sane. He supposed he should thank George for it since he was here after one thing and one thing only. Real shiv's, real food, supplies, a few repairs to the ship that were just shielding, and then getting off of this station with the information that he needed and the cryo meds that were required. Chasing cat house skirts would just get him in trouble and waste time. Plus, why pay for it when he could get it for free… and he at least knew with Georgie girl that she knew what she was doing and could get him off better than any whore on this damn floating heap of dung.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

They had separated to do their business in different areas. It would be more efficient that way and also less conspicuous. Not to mention both of them were tired of seeing only the others face after four days of being in a ship with only the other for company, so this was as good a time as any to get away from the opposite. The bar was where she had chosen to go, where most of the low lives of this little area would come and gossip, drink themselves into a truthful stupor, and then be gullied into following anyone anywhere with the promise of a free suck or two. It was her kind of place, where she did her best work. Being a female did have its advantages sometimes and hindrances others, but this time, oh this time it was a definite edge over her counterpart.

Smoke filtered through the air in a hazy, choking cloud, hanging over everything in its wake. The smell of spilled, wasted, and stale alcohol perforated through the grey smog and the murmur and drone of constant voices filled her ears incessantly. Cold glass in her fingers told her that she had yet to even touch the drink that had been handed to her, free of charge, from the bar keep. A bar keep that was eyeing her strangely and then kept tugging on his ear in a stupidly obvious way to someone out of her range of sight. Though she always kept everyone on her radar, she had done a headcount the second she walked in and was now listening acutely to all around her. Sweat from the glasses cold contents and the hot, stifling parlor slicked against her pads and brown eyes swept from the stained metal bar to the mirror that hung just behind the back of it, staring down all those that were eyeing the new stranger funny.

George sighed and leaned back, taking a small sip of her drink and instantly feeling the warm sting going down her throat seem to lift her slightly off kilter spirits. The burn was nice and strong and in her weaker days would have made her eyes water, all it managed to do was make her exhale loudly and lick her lips of the remaining substance before taking another long drag, almost draining the small shot glass, before thumping it down and indicating for the fat man behind the metal slab to fill her back up. Her gaze once more flittered around the room and tried to zero in on the best target for her mission here. She agreed with her partner that they needed to find out fast if their escape had been found out and televised systems wide by now. If not then they could stay a few days, if so then they left as soon as the shielding was fixed and were off to the Ihram if they weren't found out.

Lay low… she told herself with another breathy sigh, listening to the liquid from inside the long, skinny bottle slosh around within the glass before the tender scuffled away. Lay low and your target will come to you. It was how these places worked. The highest ranking scum always came first to sniff out the newest arrivals, to make sure they weren't rivals that had to be dealt with, to make sure they weren't dangerous to them. Too bad they didn't know that she was Georgina Collins… and too bad the sad sap that had pulled up a stool next to her and was sitting unnecessarily close did not know it either. If he had he would have given her a good four mile radius, she liked to think.

"Hey there girlie," the man started off. George took her sweet time, sipping from her shot, before turning to the grungy man that had chosen to invade her personal space.

Glancing him over from her stool she leaned forwards and started to analyze just how drunk he was. He was of normal height, she had almost forgotten how tall normal people were supposed to be thanks to Riddick, with a curtain of greasy brown hair and dull, dead, black eyes. His skin was sallow and tinged yellow from too much alcohol consumption and she wagered that he was entering into the first stages of cirrhosis. Just another drunkard, and from his bedraggled clothing and the fact that there was an empty gun holder on his hip she would bet around fifty creds that this dude was also a washed up merc. All the better, she thought with a sly sneer.

"What do you want?" George muttered, downing the rest of the drink and signaling for another one. It was in her experience that not only did guys respond better to rejection, or implied rejection, when it came to this kind of shit, but also that they were more likely to speak openly and candidly with someone who was appearing to be getting just as sloshed as them. Too bad she could handle her alcohol thanks to years of doing this same song and dance.

The man gave her a sickening look, his eyes racking up her body in much the same way that all of the guards in the Slam had done. It was only Riddick that had ever gotten away with looking at her like that and only because in the beginning he scared the shit out of her, and still did, but it was that trepidation, the apprehension, that was what made her all the more willing. She didn't fear much, but he was one of them. When his eyes once again came to her chest through her shirt she rolled her eyes mentally but played ignorant and took another shot, wincing this time at the increased burning that went down her throat.

"How much?" he slurred at her.

George blinked a few times, disbelieving her ears. She turned to him with a scowl, her brown eyes sparkling with offense. But she chose to brush it off, and instead settled into her stool, her stomach still churning and burning. This guy was going to pay for his comment but later, much later, when she got what she needed. "How much for what?" she asked patiently, mentally prepping herself for whatever sick, demented thing this guy was into.

"You know for what. How many creds do I have to pay to get some?" he drawled out. His voice stunk pungently of stale, cheap liquor and when it reached into her nostrils she had no choice but to wrinkle her nose in distaste. It burned the hairs within her nose and made her want to gag from the strength of it. Swatting at the air with an impatient hand she turned her gaze once more to the drunkard next to her, leaning on the bar and pursing her lips in thought. Then, deciding the didn't want to go down this road today, she smirked and flipped some of her curly red hair from her face.

"I'm not a hooker, guy, so back the hell up. Though, I wouldn't mind a drinking partner," she mended the burned bridge fast enough that the guy just stared blearily at her. She could tell that he was in shock that a woman on this station wasn't for hire for the night and it made her all the more disdainful of this place. She had been to some shity space ports before but this one was quickly taking any and all cake she had ever possessed. When at last his brain caught up to her words he nodded and ordered a beer, a low caliber one that when he popped the cap it smelled more like soap and less like good barely and hops. A merc fallen on hard times were one more merc to worry about. When they got this destitute then they got desperate and unpredictable… she raised her alertness a few more degrees just in case.

"Fine with me," he slurred and wiped his hand over his mouth before taking a swig from the fat bottle. Some of the putrid liquid dribbled down his chin and onto his already stained red shirt, making it all the more sullied than it was now. George growled low in her throat but ordered another shot, aware that maybe five more was her limit before she started to get drunk off of synthetic vodka made from cloned potatoes. It wasn't the best shit but it was the closest she was gonna get to top shelf in a dive like this.

George nodded lightly before muttering, "Hey, ya a merc, right?"

The man stopped his guzzling of the drink and glanced over to her with a wary eye, his lower jaw jutting out sharply. He put the bottle back down and wiped his mouth again, the stubble making a harsh, sandpaper like noise that caused the red head woman to shiver with dislike within her mind. "Yea, what of it?" the drunk asked darkly, his black eyes now sparking with distrust.

George sneered to herself. At least he had some wits about him… anyone asking if someone was a merc was either a fellow merc trying to get information from them or a convict trying to cover their tracks. Luckily, George was the latter, and that gave her more room to wiggle around, that and the idiot was so drunk he couldn't see straight. "Just wondering. Thinking of getting into the business myself, some good money to be had… catching escapees and whatnot. Speaking of, heard of the recent break out from one of the Slam's?" she asked, setting her bait and waiting to see if the word had indeed leaked out already. If it had then she would have to find Riddick quickly and they would have to get off of this floating scrap of metal and get on their way.

The merc cast her another leery look, his eyes bloodshot. But he let it go evidently and took another swig of his drink, causing more to spill from out of his mouth at his slow swallowing rather than actually hitting his throat. George took her que to down another shot before ordering a beer as well, aware that there was now a pleasant warm glow flowing around her body but not enough to inhibit her abilities. When he had finished his guzzle and was slamming the bottle down with a scrunched face, ordering another, he spluttered with liquid still staining his lips:

"Yeah… think I have. It came out of the Brigitus system the other day, some S.O.S call that… said some maniacs managed to get out of the Slam and kill a good chunk of the guards… Dunno who yet, though, the rumor is," he stopped and put a hand to his face. Seconds later a large, loud, smelly burp ripped between his large and scarred up fingers. The merc let out a thankful breath while George wrinkled her nose, holding her nostrils idly and waiting for him to return to his train of thought. "Rumor is… that it's Richard B. Riddick, the mother load of all convicts. Doubt it's him though," the merc muttered.

When his second, or maybe even tenth from how sloshed this guy was, came down onto the metal slab with a clang as did George's he popped the lid. She stared at him with interest in her gaze, leaning forwards and crossing her arms over the cold surface. Someone not willing to think that Riddick could break out of a Slam was incredible in her book, the man was a fucking legend for shit's sake! She eased her question in after a sip of her own drink, watching her partner pop his lid and start to do the same as her.

"Why don't ya think it's Riddick? Isn't he like notorious for breaking out of Slam's or something? He's one bad motherfucker," George tried to hide her humor at the conversation but a small smile was tugging at her lips anyway. Luckily the guy didn't notice.

The merc waved his hand around, his shoulders steadily slumping forwards and the glaze to his eyes starting to signal his battle with intoxication was losing on his end. "Cause then none of us would be sitting on our asses here. If he had really escaped you can bet that he woulda had fourteen mercenaries on his bald ass already."

George eyed him suspiciously but took another swig of her own drink. Slyly and without anyone noticing she took out something from within the confines of her black cargo's, it's end glittering with the promise of pain and a swift death. Twirling around the syringe she leaned in closer to the merc before looking down at the barkeep, giving him the death glare. The merc smelled worse than he looked, and it had only a little to do with the fact that he was bathed in alcohol and beer. It seemed he hadn't bathed in days. When he turned to her with the drunken spark of lust at her close proximity she stabbed him hard in the leg with the needle before pushing her lips to his hard to silence the scream that would have erupted even from his inebriated mouth.

His mouth was hard and dry, with cruelly thin lips and a taste that made the woman want to vomit. But she stayed there, pushing his mouth open and thrusting her tongue in to muffle his cries of violation as she pushed the concoction of morphine and cyanide into his system. The guy couldn't live, no one could know that she was asking about Brigitus especially when the news finally spread that it was Riddick and George that had fled from the Slam on S.8 and that they had gone through this very station. This would save them a few days, maybe even weeks, before news traveled like wildfire. When the man's lips finally went limp against her she pulled away, tucking the needle back into her baggy pants tucked into worn out combat boots. She watched him thud down onto the bar, letting out a hiss of assuming sleep before she stood and slapped down some creds from the ship that she and Riddick had commandeered.

She slid out of the smoke choked bar like a shade, vanishing from their ranks and into the light of the station without a single word. She left nothing there to even leave a trace of herself, having wiped down the glasses while she was drinking with a clothe hidden in her hand and having taken her final beer with her. The only thing left was to find Riddick and tell him what she had learned.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Riddick glanced around the shop he had entered just over an hour ago. Metal gleamed wickedly on the walls, held up by pegs drilled into the surprisingly well kept up walls. A variety of weapons was present; anything a person could want in way of a blade, from daggers, shivs, all the way up to higher end scythes with double blades. His eye had instantly been drawn over to the shiv's and the knives, giving them all a once over with his steady stare before starting to pluck them up and weigh them out for deficiencies. Gripping them by the handles, all firm and resistant in his hand for optimal grip, he began to spin them around his hand and in a circle, watching the glittering of the thin blades that curved wickedly and were crying out for a good trial run from the murderer.

"Can I interest you in anything?" Riddick stopped spinning one in particular and turned slowly, gripping the weapon to the side and holding it out with a contemplative grip. He liked this one… The clerk stood behind the counter, watching him with a slightly suspicious stare but that didn't matter. As long as Riddick ended up buying something he would be pacified into thinking he was jut another customer. Which today he was. He had no intention of spilling blood today unless it was absolutely necessary.

Light poured into the dim shop from outside in the harsh hallways through the beaded curtain, protecting his eyes even through his goggles, and when the soft lighting hit his body he was aware he looked like some kind of hulking, ominous creature of pure power. The clerk, who was weak by nature he could smell it on him, looked away with a small noise and went back to doing whatever he had been when Riddick had come in. Directing his attention back to the shiv he held it out and gave it another once over. It was a simple blade with a leathered handle, the blade went straight out from the hilt and then curved sharply around his knuckles with sharp, cruel spikes at the beginning of the curve. The blade was made to do the most damage for the strike, if the first part of the blade, the smooth and almost demonically thin edge, missed then the sharp spikes would get the flesh that had failed for the first time and take out chunks, opening multiple, jagged holes rather than just one smooth one. A more painful way to die to be sure… but he liked this one. The actual metal was tempered, he could tell just by the small black sheen that was on the dull end around his knuckles, and that was good as well because then the chances of it breaking were far and few between.

Taking the mate to the first one into his grip he lifted them up and glanced from one to the other. Identical to a fault, the only thing to give one another away was where the forger had put his signature on opposite sides of the hilt, and one signature was engraved deeper than the other. The shiv's were light and heavy in the handle, allowing for perfect balance when he threw them, and the way that they just barely grazed the air over his fist was fantastic, almost like they were made for him. He was enamored and knew that he was going to buy them. Though he had not expected to come across such high grade in such a run down station… it was suspicious that he had.

He moved along and then looked over the shorter daggers, for placing securely within his boot for emergency purposes. He was testing out another blade when the beads that held the shop shielded from the outside world clicked together and a flood of light entered in from the disturbance. Riddick took a small sniff at the air, sensing the scent that was now drifting through the area as the figure that had come in shifted around and scanned the walls. Then the newcomer's eyes fell onto Riddick's large back and the killer tensed idly, his lips twisting slightly in amusement. Looks like the shiv's really would get a test run before he bought them.

Spinning around Riddick let the dagger he was holding fly, watching it spin through the air and make the most beautiful whirling sound of metal cutting through air. The figure merely glared icily at the massive man before moving the side, barely in time for the weapon to whiz by their face and thud into the wall, sticking out with the hilt jiggling around. Riddick was on the newcomer in an instant, drawing the new shiv's and advancing like a charging bull, his body rushing with the promise of a fight. Brown eyes narrowed sharply at him coming at the figure and they moved slightly again, blocking the first attack with a grunting arm, drawing a fellow glittering dagger. The bald killer had it covered however, he slammed his wrist into the side of the intruders neck, causing them to splutter and stagger before he had them pinned to the wall, his new shiv to the woman's neck, the pointed spikes dangerously close to the vital blood flows.

"For fuck's sake, baldy!" George snarled and tried to wrestle his arm away and only succeeded in making him press the weapon on harsher. She stilled and her brown eyes flared at him, indignant annoyance written on her face while her own weapons had been thrown from her fingers and onto the floor.

Her annoyance was replaced abruptly with intrigue as she looked down at the new weapons, her eyes lighting up in the only way that a fighters could do. "Oh, those are nice. New knife thing's, eh?"

Riddick smirked sardonically at the splayed out woman, his head cocking to the side at her question. Only George could be more interested in the thing he was holding rather than her life was within millimeters and in his mercy. For all she knew he could slice her throat here and now… but there was only a trace amount of fear on her person, as was usual whenever he was around, but this trace was smothered by interest. And also excitement, her mouth had quirked into a sly sneer and he couldn't help but catch the faint arousal coming from her form and his body responded in kind. A low growl ripped from his chest as he leaned in and brought his mouth closer and closer until if she hadn't breathed he would have been sure they were touching very lightly. He couldn't deny that every time he showed his power over the red head that he felt a surge of power through him, dominating such a hell cat, putting her in her place… it was intoxicating.

"Uh, I'm sorry… but, are you going to buy those? If not, I'd like it if you didn't kill a customer," the clerk's shaky and frightened voice ripped through the silent pissing match going on between the two killers. George's eyes left his goggles, a look of disappointment on her face, and stared down the clerk with a sour glare. Riddick, however, heeded the man and let her go, spinning the shivs and walking them over to the counter with an assured gate. Hearing the dagger he'd thrown ripped from the wall and Georgie's heavy booted footfalls the weapon was laid down next to the wanted shivs. there was an anticipation in the air beside her, something hanging around her, and when he sniffed at the air again he detected something he had known she would get. Smug arrogance was rolling off of her body in waves and hitting him square in the chest. She'd gotten what they needed. Good girl…

"That'll be a thousand cred's, sir," the teenager murmured, glancing over the two hardened criminals with sweat starting to roll down the side of his neck. He then looked at the red head behind him a little too hard, his dark eyes roving over her body that wasn't clad in revealing, whorish clothing, and Riddick let out a low, possessive noise.

"Eyes up front, kid," the convict hissed. Luckily George was walking around and not paying attention, shopping for herself even though she had found perfectly good weapons in the female merc's belongings. Too distracted that Riddick was being a little too protective of something that was just a hot body to have his way with whenever he wanted. The clerk snapped his attention up to the massive muscle of a man and swallowed hard, smiling nervously as if to say he wasn't looking at the other murderer. Riddick wondered if this was one of the first women he had ever seen that wasn't a prostitute. Lord knew that there were far too many on this station, he had been propositioned three times just coming a few hallways.

Slapping down the amount that was needed onto the counter Riddick slid the knives onto the straps on his back and then the third one into his boot. He relished in the sharp presence against his ankle, a constant reminder that he was armed and dangerous, the force to be reckoned with that he truly was. The power a blade held was enormous, could take a life one second or save one the other, could end someone's existence with a flick of the wrist. They were so much more personal than guns who all you did was pull a trigger… oh shiv's and knives and daggers were under your control at all times, took skill to handle… you were up close to your victim always, felt their body heat, their breath, their fear and got to see the blood first hand. Though the thrill of a kill had waned over the years it was still there like some kind of sweet, sweet drug that took him away from his existence whenever he did it. Though kids were off limits. He had set down the ground rule long ago. It was one of the reasons why he had worked harder than he should have to save Jack off of that planet and had actually kept his word… if not for the help of a certain blond commander.

George was looking over a tank of small revolvers, her eyebrows knit in concentration. The rounds that were displayed for them were that of a shinning, oddly liquid looking metal, and he could smell her confusion as to what kind they were. He came up behind her quietly and tapped her on the shoulder, making the red head jump and send a bitter glare over her shoulder at him, gripping at her braless chest in surprise. Nodding towards the door and the fact that he had what he had come for he headed out into the corridors awaiting him, through the beaded curtain, pushing it aside with a single arm. He waited outside of the door for a few seconds before the woman followed him out with a grunt, her arms behind her head and glancing up and down the hallway they were in.

"Well?" Riddick asked deeply.

George flicked him off for a second before walking off a few steps. "We'll talk 'bout it on the ship, dude. I don't want fucking ears listening to our shit," George stated with a shrug. Riddick took his cue to follow, now feeling more deadly and self assured that he had good quality weapons instead of hand made shit ass ones that he had sacrificed the woman's before him jacket.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"Looks like we're in the green. There's rumors of a break out from Brigitus but there hasn't been any real confirmation of who it was. We might want to get out of here as soon as possible as a precaution though," George finished with a nod to herself in affirmation. They had returned to the ship to talk over their plan on getting her to Ihram and then getting his ass wherever he wanted to go, but that had all depended on the info gathering done here. And from the sounds of it the lights were all in their favor and the Alliance was still oblivious to their escape. Even though there was little chance right now of getting caught there was still the possibility, and it was always nice to take certain cautionary steps when dealing with something of this magnitude. Namely not going to a triple max any time soon. George would never go back…

She watched as Riddick ran the blade of one of his shiv's over the hills of his head, shaving off what little stubble had formed over the last few days of not shaving. Having caught the slight beginning of color and the fact that his eyebrows were a dark brownish color she figured him to be a brunette… it would have been funny if he was a blond. Oh it would have been hilarious. She winced at the sound of the hairs being cut off almost at the root, watching the thick, noxious liquid he used atop of his head as a shaving cream is scrapped off and then slapped down into a canister of some kind. Why he wasn't doing this in the bathroom was beyond her. Then again, men were strange, George reminded herself as she leaned against the haul of the ships head, watching the fellow escapee intently for what he was planning in his head. Though she'd spent so much time with him lately she still could not figure out how he worked, and it was driving her insane. What triggered him to do what he did? Was it the mere fact of his mental status? Or was it something akin to her own, a traumatic event that had made human life of any kind expendable? What was Riddick's story…?

She was so wrapped up in her thoughts she almost didn't hear him rumble and then start off on what they were going to do.

"We'll leave immediately then. The shielding is superficial damage, nothing that a few more entries into a planet with moderate atmosphere can't handle. I got what supplies we needed sent to us while we were gone, everything's in cargo, so we're good to go," he stated simply in that ridiculously rough and gravely voice. George shivered despite herself and watched as he once more started to shave his head, her eyebrows once more coming together in concentration.

"Why do you shave your head?" she blurted out and then mentally slapped herself. She really needed to get a hold of her mouth one day, it kept getting her into trouble.

Riddick however merely looked up at her with his goggles on his knee and his silver eyes showing slight surprise at her question. The ship had been darkened the second they had gotten in, the bald man ordering the ship to lower the lights to fifty percent before removing the blocking out shades. He didn't change expressions but she could hear the amusement mocking in his voice when he said, "It's better than having hair. If you're in a fight and someone pulls your hair it hurts like a bitch, this way I don't have that weakness. You should give it a try…" he glanced her up and down then resided on her hair line where she was now putting a hand protectively, glaring daggers at him warningly, "you might look good bald, Georgie girl."

George scoffed at that, picturing herself sans hair and could only gag at the thought. Though she hated her hair with a passion equal only to that of the burning power of a red giant she couldn't say that she hated it enough to where she would willingly part with the wild, frizzy red curls. No, she would die before she let him near her with one of those things to shave off of her spirals of defiance. "That's okay, I'm good," she quipped and leaned further on the wall. She glanced out the windshield at the head and frowned slightly, her eyes darkening. There was something going on, she could feel it through the heaviness that settled whenever they were silent like this. Their relationship was becoming disturbingly like that of two friends, she didn't fear him anymore and he didn't seem to hold her in quite the amount of contempt as when they first met. That did not bode well in her experience. Friends were worthless, weaknesses, something she was better without. Acquaintances could be used to get to her, to make her do something she didn't want to do, to make her give herself in, or worse, to work for the Necro's.

Now the need to leave was all the more powerful. The last thing she needed was her and Riddick becoming… 'friends'. With a final flick the last of the goop was gone from Riddick's head and he was newly bald, smooth and without a single missed spot of bristle atop of the slightly pointy surface.

Riddick stood and without saying a word brushed passed her into the bathroom to rinse off the remains of his job, small clusters of hair still remaining but severed from their growing roots. George watched after him, pursing her lips when she spotted he didn't turn on the light to go into the room, then again, she supposed he didn't need to. She had heard from various places that the guy could see in pitch black, that his eyes picked up more on life force energy or the shape of an object rather than the color or actual presence. What had it been like to suddenly go from normal vision to how he saw now? Was it a shock? It must have been… George didn't know if she could have handled it the way that Riddick obviously had. Then again, his was out of necessity, she had heard how rough Butchers Bay had been and still was, it was worse than any other combined max out there. She had once been on route to there, when she was younger and stupider, but she had killed the mercs and landed in a different system, setting their boat adrift. She'd been lucky, if she had been caught in there she was sure she would have died within a few years. She wouldn't have been able to escape like he had.

Water rushing caught her ears but now she was deep in thought about her first slam experience. It had been hell and she had only been nineteen at the time she had been sent there. A few months after her break off with her brother she had gotten sloppy in her work, had decided that what was there to lose. A lot. She had lost quite a bit of her humanity while in that place, it was because of that Slam, that horrible dingy place, that she had really turned the bucket and had become something all together different than her family or others from her planet. As far as she was concerned she was no longer from her home, her home didn't exist… the place where George had been borne truly was on that icy cold death planet out in the now dead Furyan systems. She'd been scared shitless, confused, unable to comprehend how prison life worked. And for the first few weeks she was pushed around and used, hiding in a dark corner while trying desperately to think of a way out, anyway out. Something in her had snapped, shattered, and her brain had set into the mode needed to get her out of there and to survive in there. That of a cold hearted, dead minded individual, one that thought before they acted and whose mind was cruelly sharp; and she had escaped mere days after that had happened.

Imagining the prison walls, all deep red and stained with crimson, she winced at the still fresh memories. Though the current Georgina Collins was more than competent and more than able to handle living life in such a place, now it would actually be a cake walk, the mind set of that scared nineteen year old made her cringe and made her wish that her weakness from the past would be erased completely from her mind. Her old self made her sick. Her head snapped up from its sinking position to glance over to Riddick as he emerged from the bathroom, giving his head a once over with a towel before heading to the front of the controls. If he sensed her mind was off, if he smelled the dark brooding coming off of her, he didn't mention it and didn't speak. Instead he just strapped himself into the head's pilot seat and motioned for her to sit as well in the copilot, that they were leaving and doing it now.

Her thoughts didn't leave her when she took her spot next to Riddick, nor did they even falter when the docking bay doors opened and her partner turned on the reverse thrusters. Clearing the path out of the station, the lights of the corridor they had pulled into flashing as they reversed out, was something that she was used to. She had grown accustomed to the weight that shifted into her stomach with the sensation of going at the rate they were and then suddenly going from artificial gravity to that of the void of space. It always made her ears ring with the sudden difference in pressure. Space had a feeling all its own and once you were out there, in it, immersed, sometimes it felt better than being on any planet. It made you lightheaded, made your blood seem to pump faster, and there was also the knowledge that should anything, any one single little thing like the navcomm go out, then you were fucked and you would be floating out there forever on end unless rescued by another ship. It was that terror mixed with the beauty of it all that drew her to space, that drew others as well, and in a way Riddick was the exact same thing to George as space.

The station grew smaller and smaller until they were in the backwater lanes heading towards the Ihram system. Ion trails left behind by hundreds of other ships this month greeted them and danced around the ship in shimmering blues, reds, and depending on the ship golds. You could tell the lanes from pure outwards darkness simply by one thing, the trails, and otherwise there was open space to greet you and hope to god that your navcomm worked properly otherwise you were royally fucked. No one but pirates, mercs, and slavers worked out in open blackness out there and they were the last kind of people you wanted to run across. Especially them.

Safely tucked away within the confines of outer space and making their way passed planet after planet of this system she span in her seat and stared out the side window of the head. They had just passed a gas planet easily the size of earth's Jupiter, keeping well away from its humongous gravitational pull, but the swirling clouds and deep, dark blue made her wonder if there was possibly any life on that rock whatsoever. It occurred to her, obscurely when she was lost in thought such as now, that there was a strong possibility that other forms of intelligent life other than humanoids existed out there. Though why they had yet to make their presence known in the politics of their neighbors was confusing. Maybe they saw humans as foolish, killing each other and hacking away at another planet all to gain their resources. Maybe they thought that there was nothing to be gained from opening communications with the human races and thus did nothing. Or maybe, she was wrong, and there was nothing out there but beasts and strange alien creatures left that could not voice, that were not all knowing. She knew that thought was wrong, to assume something didn't exist was begging for it to show you it did and in a bad way, but still… George liked to see all angles of an argument.

Riddick put the ship into autopilot, having checked over the navigation system four times and making sure that all the pressure and life support was in order. She could hear his chair turn towards her and feel his silver eyes burn into her and she somewhat knew what was coming. Sometimes the animal of a man across from her could be predictable, five percent of the damn time, but all the others what he would do was a total toss up. Turning her chair back around George pulled a leg up to her chest, waiting for whatever it was he was going to say. When Riddick wanted to talk there would be heaviness to the air that hadn't been there before as if he was willing her to start off the conversation. But unluckily for him she wasn't particularly in the mood to talk so she just sat there staring at him, her mouth in a firm and insolent line.

Riddick was the one to cave first which always surprised her. Usually when this shit happened he just let it go and walked away until she was almost dying from boredom.

"Once we're in cryo then it'll feel like just a few hours until we get to Ihram. We're almost at the end, Georgie," he stated simply.

George glanced him over from the corner of her eye before nodding her agreement. There was a small gnawing settling into her chest from him saying that, that they wouldn't see each other again once they set down and she was off of the ship. She didn't want to say that she'd miss him, cause that wasn't how Georgina Collins the murderer worked, but she knew that some level would indeed mourn the loss of Riddick's presence. That must be the side of her that also liked the pain because it let her know that she was alive. The red headed woman grunted and ran a hand over the nape of her neck.

Finally, she just stood and tore off her tank top, throwing it to the ground of the head and walking towards the bedroom with a distinctive sway of her hips. When she didn't know what to do she more often then not relied on something that was tried and true to her personality and wouldn't affect her as much as this was oddly working up to. She didn't need to hear Riddick to know that he was stalking after her, the sound of his own shirt hitting the floor all she needed to know that he was wholeheartedly agreeing to her plan of action. With a flick of her wrist her belt was gone and she was walking into the threshold of the shared bedroom, a bedroom that neither would be welcome in after cryo and after their departing.

"Lights off," Riddick's growl from right next to her ear caused George to gasp but not start, her skin breaking out into goose bumps. The computer of the ship obliged dutifully, turning the lights out completely and leaving her blind to the world around her. All that was left was hearing, and she knew that did shit good against the man that had left her in the darkness, and touch. Her skin jumped when his fingers came to her bare sides, running up the scared up surface to where her breasts hung heavily and gripped the softness of the flesh there with a firmness she hadn't felt before. His lips fell onto her neck before his teeth did, biting there hard until she squirmed and swore at him though she bore her skin more to him, her eyes shutting while a slight moan escaped her mouth.

She was spun around, that much she knew from the sensation, and soon was being backed up towards where she had spotted the bed before the ship went dark. His mouth claimed hers passionately, his mouth forcing hers open without a second thought and started their usual war of tongues. When George bit onto Riddick's lower lip he growled throatily at her before tumbling the female onto the barely soft cushion of the mattress, her thin body making a fabulous sounding thud. He was on top of her in a second, never letting her catch her breath, as his mouth once more was atop of hers and his hand was skimming down her stomach. Calluses caught on scars and she gasped, arching her back into him and ripping at the skin on his arms. Her brown eyes opened and stared up at him where she knew him to be but could only see the sharp shine of silver eyes in the nonexistent light. His mouth ran down her neck after leaving her mouth red and utterly conquered, biting and licking his way down to between her breasts while his hand dipped under the overly large cargo's and gripped onto her crotch demandingly.

George's hips arched and shifted, a soft hiss leaving her lips when a large finger inserted itself into her, passing into the increasingly dampening folds with ease. Mouth locking onto a nipple and his teeth pulling at the ridge until it stung and shivered in pleasure and hand rubbing up and down under the protection of the new cargo's, she wondered just how much she would miss this…


	12. Chapter 12 Cryo never works

**Chapter twelve: **

**Cryo never works**

**Warning! Chapter not intended for children!**

Cryo was a fucked up system that she personally didn't like. Though it worked it was disturbing how quickly you went under and how the machine kept you alive, and not your own body. But it was the best way to get from systems to systems, considering that there were millions, sometimes billions, of miles between them and their destination. It worked simply, it pumped your body full of two main chemicals, both of which George had no idea of the names, but one was red, like blood thick and opaque, and the other was a sickly pale blue that looked like thinned paint. What was worse was that blue one was the active ingredient that was put straight into the vein after mixing with some of the red. She remembered vaguely being told the red one was the one that informed your brain not to freak out and the blue was the one that slowed all bodily functions down to almost nil.

It was, in essence, suspended animation for humans. All of your brain is supposed to shut down, but for some there is a side effect, a side effect that didn't function on her but she had heard things of Riddick. Where the primitive side of the mind, the animal side, was always awake and aware of everything going on around the person put under. So as she watched Riddick rig up the system, his fingers working over the tubes and the gauntlets that had needles to go straight into their arms, she wondered suspiciously if she could trust him while she was so far gone. He had yet to do something horrible to her, but there was still the air of extreme distrust around him and around her. Killers don't change, just like the rest of the world. He really should just cut her up and jettison her out into space so that she could never tell anyone about what had transpired here and where he was going. She was very confused as to why she was still breathing and physically animate.

George sat with her legs crossed on the grating of the haul where several seats were located for just this kind of occasion. She would be sleeping in this area whereas he would be in the head, in case if anyone came upon them in cryo he'd be the first to wake up and begin immediate maneuvers to lose their pursuers. Her brown eyes followed his fingers as they attached one large tube into the gauntlet and began to make computer adjustments to her weight and height, her lips pursed in thought. Riddick really was much smarter than he looked and that was saying something. To her he radiated an air of cleverness, deadly keenness that spelt danger for anyone else around him, but the mere fact that a sharp, critical mind was held within that bald head and protected by that mass of hulking body made her blink a few times in astonishment. He was an oxymoron when you examined him close enough.

It occurred to her in those moments that these could be some of the last hours she spent with Riddick. Though that didn't matter really all that much she didn't try to tell herself that she would be impartial to their parting. He was an interesting man that had managed to hold her interest, and that alone was saying something. Usually she got bored with men and decided that they weren't worth her time, she had jobs to do and besides, love and that kinda shit were for people intending to have a family. She couldn't imagine raising a kid with the kind of lifestyle she led. It would be a death sentence for both of them… maybe that's why Noah left when he had.

"I hate cryo sleep," she whispered.

Riddick paused only momentarily to acknowledge he'd heard her but didn't answer. So she took that as he hated it to. Maybe that was just wishful thinking.

George sighed deeply and stared out of the window's at the head, watching as the stars remained ever out of reach and yet coming slowly closer. It was strange to stare out at them and know that there was still many, many millions of miles between her and them and that man had just begun to explore their systems. Spotted a small planet with two larger moons orbiting it, nearly dwarfing its size, but still she could see the unmistakable dark blue that was the orbs seas of life. She stared wistfully at it a moment, her heart aching strangely in a way that it had not in years.

"My people used to pray to my planets twin moons every night at midnight, when they were at their peaks and the tides were high and full," George murmured, not even thinking on that she was saying these things aloud. When Riddick stopped his movements and she could feel his eyes slide to her from the corners of his goggles she suppressed a bitter smile, her arms coming to rest on her knees. Her vision went dark and hazy with the flashes of her home's pristine waters, rolling waves, and pure white beaches that glittered fantastically in the systems singular bright sun. "It was in our religion. Praise the moons that gave us the tides and the water that covered a good half of our planet, making it the fantastic little rock it was. The moons were king and out entire economy and lifestyles revolved around them, the study of the stars and other systems was regarded as the highest of possible honors in our culture. We did not fight, there was no need. My people had seen what war did to others, to our neighbors and friends, and abandoned any form of bickering amongst the sister worlds.

"That's not to say that we didn't have weapons or our own styles of fighting," George commented, shaking her head. She paused and looked down at her weathered hands and scowled, her teeth momentarily showing in agitation. "But that didn't help when they came. My father… he was an architect, one of the most respected in our quadrant of the planet on the biggest island nation of us all; he was also a politician and a shop owner. Though we didn't live a wealthy life like some would assume, we were middle class, lower middle, barely scrapping by with what he made from his jobs. My mother died giving birth to my brother, Noah," she heard Riddick shift and sit down, fixing her with a telling stare through his glasses. She wasn't allowed to stop now that she had started. She didn't know why she had… it had just started flowing from her.

The shock of her having a brother didn't show on Riddick's face but she could tell that he was slightly stunned. It was the way that his shoulders were harder and less relaxed than they normally were, more bunched, she was nervous that she was now able to tell when he was anxious or not. Rolling her neck from side to side to relieve the tension building there the red head licked her lips while closing her brown eyes. "Noah was perfect in my eyes, and in my fathers. He was so small, even when he was older, and his hair was the most interesting shade of blond I'd ever seen. He was smart and clever, he could solve any problem you gave to him and yet he had absolutely no common sense. He took after our father, whereas I took after my mother.

"I wasn't particularly good at anything when I was home there. Not in my opinion, but I studied art and sculpture, drawing and painting, and became intimately knowledgeable of the human structure and systems. I made little money doing that during out time on Artemis so I mostly worked at a local market to help make ends meet. I was fifteen when they came to our system after taking over the neighboring star and planets.

"They came as they often do, in the form of a comet, ushering in whispers and fright in their wake," George paused and ran a hand over her face, hating to remember just what that silver shinning streak looked like and just what danger and destruction it held within its glory. How something that had been so beautiful in its decent have been so horrible? That was the night that she had stopped trusting her eyes and started to trust her gut, her gut at least was right the majority of the time. She glanced up to see Riddick staring at her with furrowed brows, his large mouth surprisingly pursed in a thoughtful look. She noticed him raise a single eyebrow before she leaned back on her hands and cocked her head to the side, a sarcastic, empty, sardonic grin ripping across her features. "Necromongers, the worst kind of plague this universe has. The council of all of the system was on the planet that week, meeting with all of the politician's and discussing a course of action that did not involve war. Even then I knew it, that they were weak, that the necromongers only responded to violence and that a surrender would do nothing but get us killed faster. There was also speaks of some incredibly stupid fools who said the Necro's didn't exist, that it was just a passing comet, there was nothing to fear. They were wrong…

"A week after the comet first came into the sights of my people several different pieces broke off and attacked the four main islands that scattered the seas. They'd come purely for resources, and when the main tower contacted a few yards from my house I took my brother along with my father and fled to the emergency pod that had been waiting out back. My father had seen it coming, had known, had been one of the ones secretly ushering people offworld to the waiting space and then to freedom from the coming hordes. They killed; I could see the lights flashing and the dark matter that they used purging the streets of occupants, and just as the skiffs door was closing a blinding flash entered my vision and my father fell to the floor in a bloodied crumpled mass.

"I did the only thing I could do. With necromonger soldiers advancing on the skiff and with weapons drawn, pointed at me and my brother," George faltered slightly, pushing her hair from her face with a snarl.

"You kicked your old man's body from the rear hatch and took off," Riddick finished for her. His voice was blank, as unreadable as his features, and she couldn't tell if he was disgusted by her or respected her for her instinct to survive the ordeal and get herself and her brother out of there. He nodded at her to continue, the air heavy and thick, making it hard to breathe.

George had decided a few days ago now that Riddick could hear her stupid little story. It wasn't like this mattered. She didn't want his pity and he wouldn't give it to her so it was fine either way, and he couldn't come back and use it against her since they were both in agreement. If either one came looking for the other they had all the permission in the world to try and kill them, even if they were unsuccessful. So when she felt the heat of his stare, demanding her continuance, she smirked and leaned against a wall of the haul and stared out again into space; anywhere but those dark goggles that didn't show what he thought of it all. She didn't know why his approval mattered, when it really didn't, but to her subconscious she supposed she wanted to have his respect and admiration. She was barking up the wrong tree and she knew it.

"We fled from the planet barely. We'd been hit by a fighter jet from the Necroshit's and were leaking fuel when we managed to get into the shipping lanes. Luckily we were picked up by some pirates and I was able to wager our way to an Alliance planet," George didn't stop to say what but Riddick knew and she could tell by the small shifting he made and the crease the formed on his brow. "I did what I had to do to get us to our new home. We were dropped off at an alliance station, just above New Spain, and were immediately picked up as Artemis survivors by the state there. We were given supplementary housing and food stamps.

"That didn't do jack shit. Me and Noah could hardly survive off of that stuff and since I was barely of age to work and with no history, records having been left on Artemis with my father, it took me a long time to find a job. And the job sucked… I was a bookkeeper at some shop for spices and weapons. I can't tell you how many times we got robbed just in those first few months, but I quickly lost my taste for the place and found myself out on my ass with a little kid still to feed. I was running out of options quick and it had already been a year living in poverty like we had. We couldn't' make it much longer on what we were being given, and New Spain was threatening to take away our free housing and half of our stamps. That's when my new job… my calling came to me.

"It happened as it often does I guess. I caught a flyer outside of a local bar that had the picture of a local thug and a price listed at the bottom for his head, not alive, but dead. I hesitated. To kill was something completely different. I knew I could do it, human's lives are fragile at best, and I knew all of the weak spots on the form. But I couldn't do it. Something in me couldn't make me do it. Until the night I spotted one of 'em on New Spain… scouting out the streets and marking them in some little notebook. A necromonger, there to do some ground work for a coming invasion… I'd been repairing floaters at the time and it just kinda happened, the first hit became a blur of others and soon I was covered in blood and brain tissue and I was exhausted. A wicked thrill went through me at that moment and something in me, I dunno, just changed for good," George once again stopped and glanced over to Riddick sidelong, her mouth firming up into a thin line.

Riddick tilted his head slightly and she could tell that he was ticking through all of his kills to get back to the first. Normally, like with George, the first kill stood out in someone's mind. It was the one that turned you into what kind of fighter you would become. If it was violent and bloody, filled with rage and a smoldering hatred, you became like George, uncontrollable, wild, and liable to snap your neck as soon as look at you. If it was controlled, planned, and precise, then you became like he was. He looked back up to her with a small quirking of his lips. "Yea, I remember mine all right. That same thrill, didn't think it would happen. I used to hear voices in my head when I was little, not that insane shit where they put you on pills, but a constant urge to fight and all that shit…"

George winced but agreed all the same. She had heard that same kind of voice in the first few days after she'd seen that flyer. It had been so logical, so exacting, and so right. She wondered who she would have been if she hadn't listened. "Needless to say from then on I didn't care about killing. If I got to fuck up some more Necromongers all the better, and that was how I became a hired hand and murderer. The business was good, a lot of people wanted someone else dead, and I slowly worked my up from petty thieves and snitches from crime syndicates to politicians and influential big shots. The money came rolling in and we were able to support ourselves no problem. By the time Noah was fifteen as well and I was nineteen though it seems he had learned what I did and had had enough. He didn't see it the same way I did, he hated what I do, hated me for doing what I did to make sure we lived and not die because of the damn government. We had an argument and he walked out on me after all I'd been through, after I had started this shit for him.

"I got the fuck outta dodge after that. Went offworld and onto bigger and better trophies. Better ones got the bigger risks though and I got sloppy and landed myself in my first Slam. Some frozen hell hole in the Furyan system," George didn't catch the darkening on Riddick's face when she said that nor did she see him flex his fingers idly in though. Her eyes glazed over and she bit her lower lip hard to where a small amount of blood drizzled from the wounded area. "I… wasn't ready for the prison yet. I wasn't like I am now, I wasn't hard and sure of myself. I got beat up on a regular basis and the male inmates weren't exactly understanding of my situation. It took me a while but the Slam changed me, turned me into something even killing that monger didn't do, turned me into who I am today. Don't know if that's a good thing though," she smirked bitterly.

"So what about your brother?" Riddick suddenly chipped in. George tossed her hair over her shoulders, staring at the bald man skeptically and pondering why he would care. Could he hear the distaste in her voice whenever she spoke of that traitor? Or was it that he could smell her fury and her betrayal at thinking on the blond mass of hair and amber eyes she had once loved.

George gritted her teeth in a snarl before thumping the ground hard with her fist. "The little shit gave me away! I was on a mission to kill some high up president of a council for the Ichon systems, a sweet deal where I would get a good two million creds for the job and then an extra three if I made it look like it was the opposing party that did it to him. I had gotten in touch with Noah after two years of looking and told him what area of space I was in, not even the damn solar, and said that I was trying to turn over a new leaf. Karma bit me in the ass in the form of some Necromongers that were pissed cause I'd killed a few twenty here and there over the years and they nearly killed me in return." She lifted her shirt and showed him the large blade scar that ran from her hip to her breast with a disgusted look on her face.

Then she sobered and she looked down at the ground while shaking her head. Her expression told him all he needed to know. Betrayal like that ran deep in the veins and made the blood heavy and almost impossible to move. It made your soul and body refuse to go on and nearly want to die from the agony it went through. He'd felt that once before and refused to feel it again.

George swore under her breath and tried to resist the urge to cry like the stinging in her eyes and the lump in her throat were telling her. Instead, she relied on something she was used to, the need for violent. So instead she slammed her elbow behind her into the haul's wall, causing a loud clang to sound and her bone to shriek in defiance and horror at her actions, but she didn't care. With a shaking voice she continued, "He converted to their side. Seems he'd gotten doped up, addicted to some bad shit… became a merc and got caught on New Germany when it was taken. They recognized his last name as mine, traced his DNA to our father, and used him to get to me… he converted to save his own ass and end mine. I'll never forgive him," she whispered heatedly.

Riddick didn't move or speak and she was unnerved by that and at the same time grateful. She wasn't sure what she would have done if he had laughed at her or rebutted her for her stupid angst ridden past. She was working on putting it all behind her, it wasn't the past that made her, she was George now, and nothing would change that. Nothing. Instead, all he did was to stare at her as if she was something new to consider. That feeling of being analyzed she hadn't felt since their first few meetings and she pondered how she ranked up now. Had her position changed or was it the same? Had it fallen or risen? Or had he lost respect for her because of how she had gotten into the business. Then again, why should she care? He was a hypocrite if he didn't approve, he did the same damn thing she did. The only difference was that Riddick had been caught more times and that he was older by like six years.

"At least you had a family," he suddenly stated roughly. That roused George from all seething thoughts of her brother and her head slowly turned all the way to face him, her head tilting to the side and her brown orbs blazing with interest at what he'd just said. But he didn't expound upon it but instead stood and dusted off his pants rear before going back to work on the cryo, leaving George in the loop and to brood on what he'd said.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXX

They say that most of your brain shuts down in cryo sleep… All but the primitive side; the animal side, the Furyan side. It was no wonder why he was never asleep during the effects of the drug. Riddick's silver eyes were half hooded, between the stages of sleep and awareness, just barely awake but enough to know if something went wrong and to be aware constantly of his surroundings. It still had the effect of slowing down his body to where it didn't crave food or water, to where it did nothing but hibernate softly, it was just that his brain was different. He was very singular from everyone else.

The beeping of the cryo machine attached to his arm, piercing into the flesh and pumping him full of the chemicals that so altered him, were the only thing that filled his ears besides the sister sounds of the one down the hall from him. His heart he could feel beating slowly, softly; he remembered still when he had first been put into cryogenic slumber. He had freaked out, had thought he was going to die because of how lazily his rhythm had become and how odd his reaction to the drug was compared to what he'd been told would happen. Now it was merely an annoyance that kept him drifting in and out of real sleep. It was a wonder what one could adapt to given time and necessity. He personally hated the mindset his brain slipped into during this time. Riddick thought of things he shouldn't, or rather, wouldn't when he was in normal mode. Like one of them right now had to do with the red head down the way.

The fellow murderer, assassin, bad ass, animal… she was perfectly sick and twisted and wrong. Just like him. Her voice was like liquid metal, cutting, filling, deathly, and those burning brown eyes were something entirely different than anything Riddick had found in a woman. He had seen that look many times in wolves or big cats, analyzing, constantly wondering what to do next, what to kill next, where their next meal would come from, and whether or not to kill you for getting to close to them. It belied such a sharp wit and powerful mind, that hard and female form, that Riddick couldn't help but growl whenever he thought about it. And her form, oh god her body. The most alluring thing about George had not been her looks, she was average and in all reality not his type, was not only her attitude that he loved to force to bend to his but her stomach. So tight, so taught, line after line of muscle and chiseled strength from years of training, and then littered with awful, garish scars that took away any of the flawless beauty that would have existed there. Those scars were what he was really attracted to. It showed she was a fighter, that she had killed and nearly been killed many times.

Her blood tasted like fire hot copper with a twang of something sweet. Riddick's eyes fluttered for a second at the thought of how her thick, crimson life fluid hit the back of his throat whenever he bit into her neck or arm or even breast during their harried and violent sessions. But she by all means had her infuriating parts. Such as her moodiness. Riddick had nearly forgotten why he didn't travel with a female, it was because they could go from interesting and bearable to vicious, annoying, and flat out bitches. He remembered during his time with George why he traveled alone.

His mind slammed on the picture of a naked George from their latest coupling arching into his touch, her body sprawled out under him, and the sting of her nails surging down his arms. Those damn red curls sprayed out around her face, wild and untamed, and sweat shimmering on her body and running down her marked up form in small rivets. Then her lips parted and hissed his name followed by a groan and he had been done with a frustrated growl, digging his large fingers into her small hips and forcing her over the edge with a powerful and jarring thrust. She was beautiful in her moment of completion, holding onto him for dear life while letting out breathy noises that were feminine and yet not at the same time, guttural and prowling… He had known that last time that she was having too much of an effect on him to stay even if they hadn't agreed to drop her off at Ihram. She could grow on him and become another Jack, another attachment, and he wouldn't let that happen.

Riddick wouldn't let himself be hurt like that again, ever again. Nor would he let someone precious die. George had the chance of getting near to him and he wasn't going to let her get hurt as well as himself. It was better for both of them to just let whatever the hell had exploded between them die and fade away to nothing but simmering embers. Oh but the animal wanted nothing more than to keep her by him and make sure that no one else had a chance at his hell cat. The primitive side of Riddick wanted to chain George to him and have his way with her whenever he possibly could and to kill any other guy that so much as looked at his territory. The man and the animal so conflicted made it hard for the person they lived within to think.

So instead of causing himself more of a headache his mind switched over to the second most annoying thing to think about. Replaying Kyra's death over and over in his head. Her face when she had hit the pillar and had been impaled upon the protruding metal barbs was what haunted him most. She had gasped in pain and for air, her eyes widening and the brown orbs becoming little more than specs in the mass of white, while her lips had turned an awful shade of red, blood drizzling from the side. Her skin had gone ashen and her entire body had gone cold as she had been lying in his arms, murmuring her undying loyalty to him. _Stupid girl_… he thought bitterly, trying to block the images from his mind. She shouldn't have done it, she shouldn't have sacrificed herself just for him. He didn't deserve it, never had never would. The fact that she had died, someone like Jack… images of Jack, the Jack, not Kyra, came to mind. What she would have been like had she never met Riddick, never got on that ship. Tall, leggy, with long curly hair and bright, laughing brown eyes; someone so much more righteous and pure than him.

Riddick had nearly died more times than he could count. Why was it that he kept living when he really, sometimes, wanted to die more than he could say? It wasn't that he was suicidal, he'd passed that time in his life when he was twelve for those two days, but he sure as hell didn't like the life he led. People got hurt around him and not those that were meant to get hurt either, but innocent people. Like Kyra, like Imam, like Fry… it was an odd feeling to know that you couldn't have friends, that you couldn't have anyone be precious to you or they'd die someway somehow. He'd tried to save them, he'd stayed away for five years, and the second he comes back to look for them, out of spite mind you, they both perished. Jack… so much like a little sister, like someone to always look after… he'd never make that mistake ever again.

No such thing as a lover or a friend. Not in his world. They weren't meant for someone like him. The fates had it in for him to never be happy. His destiny was to always fight, to always struggle, to shed blood wherever he went. He wondered who would do him in at the end. Would he be an old man in a Slam, too weakened by old age to bust out, or would some random little rookie manage to stab him and he'd bleed out? Being shot was also a definite possibility… Karma would be a bitch to him.

His eyes flittered open again, finding that his mind had wandered for what felt like hours. The shinning silver orbs stared glassily through the darkness of the consol to the time display, ETA displayed in bold red letters just before him. Riddick focused his vision enough, forcing the side effect of cryo from the fogs of his mind, and stared at the ticking seconds and minutes. What he saw didn't surprise him but he was startled that he had come to early. They were four days from Ihram and from George leaving, where he would go off alone and isolate himself once more. They wouldn't see each other again, wouldn't try to find the other, and would probably not think of the other after a few months. Riddick's eyes fully opened at that last thought and his brow furrowed. Like hell he was going to let that happen. If he was going to part with someone he'd been fucking for long he's gonna make sure he leaves his damn mark.

The vastness of space was extended before him, busted up only by the coming system and its rotating planets. Annoying beeping once more broke the silence and he turned to his cry band, shifting in his chair and debating what to do next. If he let the cry take him again then he might wake up at port, and that wouldn't be a good thing. Though if he did let it take him semi back under then they would save on food and power, he would save on food and power. His gaze darkened and his primitive mindset snapped into place firmly, the drug still holding off the rational side of his brain, but even then he knew that Riddick the man would agree to his plan. There were plenty of ways to take up four days, and he knew just how to do it.

Ripping the gauntlet off, not even wincing at the small hole that stood there and was welting up red, he span his chair and stared down into the dark hall before him. The lights were dimmed down to little more than twenty percent, more than enough for him to remove his goggles and for George to see at the same time, but not enough that someone just walking into the ship would be comfortable. He spotted the flash of rusty crimson down the way, strapped into a chair with her head lolled back and her body completely and totally relaxed. The glow of her wrist band caught his eye and the florescent sheen of the cryo meds going into her body was like a beckon to his senses. Riddick's attention focused solely on her, his entire body rippling with a sudden need that he hadn't experienced in a while, before he unhooked himself from his chair and stood with a smooth graceful motion. Predatory instinct took over, much like when he was hunting someone before killing them. George wouldn't know what hit her…

Licking his lips in anticipation Riddick stalked down through the metal hall from the head to the haul, running his hands along the narrow passageway. Glowing silver eyes never lost track of where she was, sitting there sprawled out, her breathing almost nonexistent and her face as peaceful as he had ever seen it. Coming before her with a low rumble in his chest he looked her over through the cargos, straps, and long sleeve, she looked almost innocent sitting there asleep and unaware of just who was standing before her. This wasn't the man that she had come to know, oh no, this was the animal that the man had kept under lock and key while around her except in their wild coupling once or twice. She looked so innocent, pure, and unassuming of what was going to happen to her that it was very capable of forgetting just what she was and who she was. He'd done some research on her during the times where she went off on her own… Georgina Collins it seemed was quite the little gun for hire. Last year alone she had killed over two major political figures as well as a few number of necromongers and just about anyone that 'crossed' her. George had a rap sheet a mile wide and three long, a heartless murderer and killer of men and women alike. Yet asleep like this and she was weak, like any other person out there, and not the strong, kick ass powerhouse that was far weaker than him to begin with.

Riddick took his shiv from off of his hip and stared at the blade before turning back to the passed out woman. She wouldn't wake up unless her body was either in one extreme or another, pleasure or pain. Should he just slit her throat? He'd been having this conversation in his head for many days now. It would be better for her to just end her life here seeing as how she now had a palpable, physical link to him. She could get picked up by mercs, tortured, raped, then killed when she didn't say anything. It would be much more humane to just end her life here and now so that the Alliance wouldn't do horrible things to her. Then again… for some reason he didn't want to kill her. There was something about her; he just wouldn't bring himself to do it. So instead he kneeled down and pressed the sharp, cold edge to her throat and slowly slid it down, watching the sleeping skin shiver in response.

His eyes roved her body quickly, hungrily, before he brought his nose deep into the crook of her neck, hands busy pushing up her thin long sleeves. The contours of her stomach melded against his calloused digits, pliable and soft, relaxed, as compared to her usual high level of tense and alertness when he was around. Taking her scent deep into his nose he bit at the soft skin of her nape, watching with rapt eyes as the skin flushed an instinctual dark red. When his fingertips hit the softness of her bra clad chest, having bought a new one on that damn space station, he slid in closer, nudging her legs apart and settling his torso between them. Riddick pulled from her neck, taking a final whiff of her smell once more, before pushing her shirt up under her chin and staring at her exposed stomach.

The scars were tight and taught even in her relaxed position, shiny in the limited light. He traced a finger up the long, gash like one and watched in satisfaction, primal and possessive, when her stomach muscles clenched and shivered at the motion. Wasting no time he clamped a hand down on the junction of her spread legs, listening when even in cryo her deepened breath hitched just barely. Tearing his gaze away from her bared and powerful midsection he brought his shiv to her belt and undid it with a flick of the blade, careful not to destroy the leather. Riddick pulled the damn thing off and threw it aside before pulling the button open and staring at what little of her hips were revealed with the motion. The cut, that powerful cut of bone, made him growl darkly then run his mouth over the sharp curves of muscle and prowess. Sounds of a zipper being pulled down filled the quiet of the haul, making the tightness of the pants around her hips lessen considerably and reveal her all the way down to the nest of starting curls. With the opening of her cargos an even more powerful version of her smell entered and filled the passenger car, pressing at his nostrils and hitting him in the chest and abs, forcing a heat to start to pool faster and heavier between his legs.

Riddick took his sweet time pulling off her combat boots and socks, flinging them away when they were untied and off, before he smoothed his hands down her stomach again. When they dipped onto her hips and under her loosed cargos he shifted backwards and pushed them off of George's form completely, over her long muscled legs and feeling the freshly shaved skin smooth under his touch. With the obtrusive and unwanted garment gone he settled himself once more between her legs, looking graciously upon the already slightly aroused slit between his demon's legs. The cryo beeped momentarily, informing the sleeper that there had been a change in temperature and slightly lessened the dosage of her chemicals, nothing too much, she was still deep under. And still under his complete control…

It was a power trip to realize that George was like this… so powerless, so weak, so unresponsive that if he did decide that he wanted to kill her then she wouldn't be able to do a shit thing about it. She was his, all his, and there was nothing she could do or say to change it. Riddick separated her folds and watched as a muscle in her thighs twitched, her toes curling slightly. Confidently the Furyan dipped his head down and placed his face between her legs, his tongue ghosting over his mouth in anticipation. Riddick didn't usually like going down on a woman, he didn't much like the taste and it was a form of affection in his eyes, something he didn't show. It meant that he liked the person enough to even think about it. But something about doing this to George was like him claiming her, bringing her to such a point of frenzied pleasure to where she would almost be screaming, it brought out the animal in him. This way she saw just what he could do to her. This way she saw just what was going to leave her life and that no other guy could ever stack up. He was cocky, he'd be the first to admit it, but he had a right to be.

Nudging his nose against opening of her slit, pulled apart by his large fingers, he took in the smell of what could only be a woman. He let out a growl from deep within his chest, his arms now looping around her thighs while shifting to where he would be comfortable. His lips opened and closed around her opening and clit, dragging the skin in and sucking on it for a brief second before repeating the process deliberately. Instantly George's sleeping form tensed up and a small noise escaped her mouth but she didn't wake, instead the cryo gauntlet merely beeped warningly at him. Ignoring the flash of less medication being put into his victim he nudged his nose against her clit before running his tongue from the very end near her anus all the way up to the top of her fold, lapping at the liquid that was starting to drip outwards.

His… was all Riddick could think as his tongue once again repeated the process, his fingers digging into her thighs to where he felt the blood vessels under rupture and the purple beginning to form. Teeth met with the sensitive bundle at the very top of her fold and her hips bucked from her slumber, another, more instant noise came from her sleeping throat. He bit at the pearl until it was red and swollen and then latched onto it, sucking as close to gently as he could get. With a flick of his tongue a long, hissing breath escaped Georgina and her thighs twitched, trying to move to close around the thing giving her pleasure. Riddick enjoyed the sudden flood of liquid coming from the opening below while his tongue lapped and lashed at the bud, nipping at it here and there and forcing it to become hard and overly sensitive to where if she'd been lucid she'd be whimpering in that wonderful way…

Riddick pulled from the bundle with a small popping noise, kissing at it a few times again before forcing his tongue against the bottom and dragging it forcefully upwards, her hips arching instinctually at the motion. Drawing away from the swollen area he pressed his lips downwards, sucking on whatever skin he could get into his mouth, before he was presented with her dripping opening. Her arousal was powerful and sent shockwaves through his body, making every muscle twitch and his body scream for him to just pull down his pants and slam into her. No… he wanted her to wake up when she was just inches from the brink of orgasm, confused but blissful, and to cry out his name. Fucking her senseless could wait until then. Good thing he was a patient guy.

His tongue abruptly went from skimming around the open and ready entrance to delving deep into the hotness that awaited. He glanced up with his shinning silver eyes to see George's face screw up and her hands grip into fists, a moan escaping her lips. Riddick focused on the task at hand, curling his tongue within his partner and then pushing it back down, fiddling with the ridged walls as they steadily became thicker. Her taste was different from any other woman he'd done this to but exactly the same, it was difficult to categorize. She was still musky, like all sexual fluids it had a heady taste that was thick and strong and took a long time to get used to, but it was also undeniably George. It was her essence in a sense and as he pulled out only to drag his tongue over the opening, taking all of the liquid with him and purring in his throat before returning to his pursuit, he wondered what kind of guy would get the hell cat to settle down in the future.

Her breathing was getting shallower and the cryo was now hissing and beeping up a storm, letting out a warning that something was wrong with the recipient. Riddick merely pulled one hand off of her thighs, leaving bruised finger marks in his place, and brought his thumb to rub gruffly over her bundle of nerves at the head of her mound. The third brush of his thumb and the increased pressure of his wet organ now pushing at the nub that existed within her entrance caused a loud groan to escape her lips. With a click he could hear the cry turn itself off and her body began to writhe in response to his stimulation.

"Shit…" a breathless murmur came from the red heads mouth but Riddick merely pressed his thumb harder into her clit and forced her hips to arch harshly. Her opening was starting to tighten with each and every lash of his tongue and when he pulled away to lap at the entrance, enjoying how the skin shivered in appreciation, another moan came crashing from her mouth. Hot, searching hands came down onto his head, rubbing it and holding it into place while her thighs came around his powerful shoulders.

George's brown eyes flickered open in confusion at to why she was suddenly awake. But the confusion was replaced by ripping pleasure as she gasped and swore openly, hands running down to grip at what was making her body shiver all over. Her mouth opened into a loud moan and her hips grinded into the hot mouth that was latched between her legs, the unmistakable slickness of someone's tongue slipping forcefully in and out of her. She rolled her head, still in the throws of the chemicals, and stared blearily down at the bald head and mass of muscle that was feasting on her like she was his last meal.

"Fuck… Riddick…?" George's voice filtered down to him and he grinned maliciously against her folds. He angled his tongue and struck at the area just behind the nub where the walls became slightly soft. Any questions she had been about to voice were drowned and her body arched up in shock and bliss. Her grip on his head became harder and when her thighs began to clench painfully around him, her breathing little more than gasps and whines, he knew that she was dangerously close.

Riddick pulled from her entrance, dragging his tongue out with a deliberate throat groan from his throat, reveling in the taste of his partner, before letting go of her other thigh and angling his fingers to replaced his lips. His head rose up and came level with hers, licking himself clean of her juices while her glazed over brown eyes stared at him in ecstasy and still traces of confusion as to why he had felt the need to just randomly get up and do this. She didn't get a chance to voice her befuddlement before her head tossed to the side and a cry emitted from her throat, her feet curling into a point while her chest heaved, her stomach starting to clench along with the rest of her body. His lips found hers gruffly, slamming his mouth atop of her still shocked one. She returned it fiercely however and as his fingers slammed in and out of her, stroking and scissoring within her now river moist core that was starting to seep into the chair she was sitting in, her arms came to clamp around his neck.

With a final thrust of his fingers and a bruising push of his thumb George pulled from him with a loud, keening moan, throwing her head back all the way while her body arched up, rigid and stiff. Her breathing was in shallow, held pants and her thighs began to shake, her opening closing like a vice around his fingers. A fresh cascade of hot, sticky liquid poured from the shivering woman who was holding onto Riddick's arms for dear life, letting out the most marvelous noises that he would never expect to come from someone as hard as her. Riddick thrust his nose into her neck and trailed up her hair line to her ear, taking in the emotions that were flashing through her like wildfire with a fire raging in his gut. His name left her lips in a gasp during her moment of complete and total surrender, sweat glittering on her oversensitive body.

"Jesus…" Georgina whispered when her body calmed down and she was left as a hurriedly breathing puddle in her chair, holding limply onto the strong, thick arms of the man that had done this perfectly. Her orbs flashed up to him, licking her lips subconsciously and taking stock of the fact that he was now coming to a crouch and looking at her the same way he always did before he took her as hard as she could handle. "What was that for…?" she whispered shakily, running a hand still attached to cryo through her sweat streaked curls.

"I wanted to," he rumbled before pulling his fingers from her and leaving her there shaking. He took her wrist in his hand and pulled the cryo off, her arm forming a similar welt of red as his own. There was much left for them to 'do' during the next four days, she wouldn't be needing to go into cryogenic slumber again.

"Are we there?" George asked, trying to push him away but her body was still weak from the shock of waking up early, from the drugs, and from the orgasm she'd just been given out of no where. When Riddick didn't move she flopped her arms across her chest and glared balefully at him, her mouth forming into a slight snarl. Though it was a nice way to wake up she didn't like that he was acting all high and mighty with her right now.

"No, we're four days off from your little destination," he commented with a small nod towards the countdown that was displayed in the head. George stared at him like he'd gone crazy for a moment, gaping like a fish, before swatting at his hands that were now trying to get her to stand up.

Throwing an accusing finger at him, though her body still simmered with acute arousal that only Riddick seemed able to produce in her, she growled low in her throat dangerously. "Why the hell? Was there something wrong!? There better be something wrong!" she snapped peevishly. She hated cryo, so to know that not only had she been put under it but that she'd been woken up from it early made her blood boil for something other than sex. Her glare spoke his death on many levels but before she could dive at him, because his silence said it all, he grabbed her by the back and knees, hoisting her into the air and tossing her over his shoulder, before walking towards the bedroom.

"Only thing wrong is we're not in the bed yet, Georgie. Hope you're ready," he glowered at her before the door slid open. Her struggling became nil and he could smell both the abrupt interest, shock, fear, and annoyance mix together into an intoxicating mixture. He ordered the lights off yet again and entered, throwing his partner down on the bed before ripping his tank top off, his body searing for its own attention.


	13. Chapter 13 Hardcore

**Chapter thirteen: **

**Hardcore**

**Again, WARNING! This chapter is dedicated to pure lemon, if you don't like it or it offends you, skip to the next chapter, otherwise enjoy. This is not intended for kids.**

George was shrouded in the dark of the ship, her breathing still shaky and uneven from Riddick's dominant pursuit a few minutes ago. She could feel him in the blackness around her, he was a force of nature that wherever he went the air got harder, thicker, sharper, and there was a sense in the very air that something more powerful and more important than George was there. The burning of his eyes on her skin was heavy on her, roving up her from her toes all the way up to her revealed stomach and ending where her shirt had fallen back into place. She could feel his swiping and her flesh heated at the very thought that he was taking inventory, assessing her, analyzing every single thing about her that he knew of. The heaving of her breast from the confined space of the dark, where she could not see or even hear him, drew her attention because she could feel the hairs, delicate and small, stand up in slight alarm at being fixed with such an intense look. His breathing was controlled and even, his steps if he was walking or circling her were silent and nonexistent. Though she could tell whenever he would teasingly touch the bed, pull the covers slightly, and cause her head to snap in that direction.

He was toying with her. He wanted her senses to be on high alert, scanning, sensitive to any kind of grounding they could get on him. He knew that he ruled in the dark and that she was just another victim of his little mind fucks. Damn it but did George like it when he did this kind of shit…

"Georgie," a purr in her ear made George freeze on the bed, her hands gripping into the sheets and glancing around with her eyes cautiously. When she didn't catch that sheen of his silver eyes she growled low in frustration and moved to sit up, confident that, for some reason, if she sat up then the should be able to spot him. Even if her eyes were useless in this kind of pitch, where she'd need a shine job like Riddick's to distinguish dark from light, she could at least feel the air and maybe, if she strained enough, hear his footsteps. The second she got up however she felt a heavy weight come smoothly onto the bed and large, strong hands push her back down sternly, a chill running up her spine as she pondered if that was what he'd been waiting for. Riddick was a strange man… a strange and fascinating man.

His legs came brushing against either side of her hips, straddling her and pressing his weight down on her as if to say that she wasn't going anywhere. She let out a long breath at the feel of his body atop of hers yet again and her mind fuzzed over in memory of all the moments that had been, indeed, just like this. There was something about having him there, on top, where he was completely and totally in control and where she would have to trust him to the point of ignorance, that made her body heat and her heart throb painfully in her throat. Riddick never failed to make her feel slightly unsure sometimes in their little sessions, unsure that she would be able to keep up with him, to satisfy him when he was so powerful and capable. She had never had a lover quite like the convict, and doubted she ever would again. A shock tore up her spine unmercifully when he leaned over her, putting hands near her head, and bit into her neck harshly, tossing her from whatever thoughts had been plaguing her mind and forcing her to focus purely on Riddick.

George's hands reached out blindly and somehow managed to grip onto his bared chest, dragging her fingers down the taught, strong surface. His teeth were sharp against her skin and when he pulled away he licked and sucked at the wound that had been mere milliseconds from a puncture wound, causing the damaged skin to shiver in confused pleasure from his tongue and mouth and pain from his ruthless harm. His skin was scorching against hers when his hands came to her stomach and pushed her shirt up yet again, tracing over scar after scar as he went while his lips now were brushing up her neck along the crook of her jaw. Every sensation was heightened painfully sharp in this darkness that surrounded her, swallowing her whole, and when his fingers snapped her bra off of her and his hands were molding her breasts into his palms gruffly she arched and let out a moan from the pressure.

"It should be a crime to wear these," Riddick's voice rumbled gravely in her ear and she heard her bra hit the floor with a rustle of material. She quirked a smirk, shifting to where her hips were to his before replying.

"This coming from you?" she commented. He let out a noise akin to a grunt before she gasped and gripped the sheets hard. One of her peaks, straining already from her previous stimulation, was suddenly being pulled deep into Riddick's hot, wet mouth where it met with tongue and teeth mercilessly. She was pinned onto the bed under his massive weight of muscle while his tongue lashed and his teeth gnawed on her straining chest, her breathing coming out in light, breathless pants.

It wasn't taking much to re-instill in her the aching that her body had undoubtedly gone through when he had first begun this process when she was in cryo. Whenever Riddick was around her body almost automatically responded now after spending a few months fucking each other at least twice a day, it knew that he meant either danger or sex and those two combined in her were a very potent mixture. She suddenly yelled when her shirt was ripped over her head, tied around her wrists with a few twists from Riddick, and using the arms tied her to the small metal framing, leaving her splayed out and semi helpless. She glared in the direction where his head would be, her teeth showing in an unhappy snarl. "What the fuck, Riddick?"

Riddick merely trailed his mouth down her stomach, causing the red head to bite her lower lip. His hands dipped under her, hoisting her hips upwards while digging his fingers into her rear, settling her into his lap. She could feel his gaze once more rail over her and though she could feel the fabric of his cargos against her legs and flesh, his hands still gripping into her hips, she felt a flush of uncertainty rush through her. Riddick was unpredictable, that was the only thing that ever stayed true about him in her experience, he could be into something one day and then dislike it the next. This sudden turn was throwing her off, that and she had told him on multiple occasions that she didn't like to be tied up. It made her feel helpless, powerless, dominated, and unable to do anything to defend herself. She was angered, frustrated, confused, horny, impatient, and hypersensitive all at once and it was making her mind reel in overtime.

The bald convict dipped his head down and ran his tongue around her navel, tracing up the firm line that ran down her middle, then all the way back down to the start of her mound. George took in a sharp breath, narrowing her gaze at him. She tried to pull her hands free but ended up causing a slight strain on her wrists, making her mind yelp in pain though she merely gritted her teeth. Curse synthetic cotton, it was strong shit. He shocked her by burying his face into her stomach and just sitting there, inhaling her scent deeply into his chest and grudgingly letting it out. The feel of his breath against her sensitive skin and scars made the flesh break out into goose bumps, a tremor going through her core mercilessly.

Riddick took his sweet time memorizing George's smell. He didn't realize how much he had been taking advantage of it, had been too focused getting out of that Slam and too busy wondering just where he was going to go now that he was free again. It danced around him, invading his senses completely, muffling the outside world and leaving him immersed in the flesh, the taste, the feel of the woman under him. He probably wouldn't allow himself to get this close to someone again so he might as well enjoy himself while it lasted right? From here on out, after these four days, it would be nothing more than his own hand or a whore that he would find a vent for his frustrations. He had lived from twenty or so on with only that to keep him company, and yet he found he had been spoiled in the last few months. Having a willing, participating, enthusiastic body beneath him, reciprocating his unwatched lust, had been a luxury he had become accustomed to. It had been perfection while it lasted. There was nothing like someone like George or his only other free lovers whispering his name, hot and tight, always there when he needed them… he thought he might actually miss this.

Might. Emphasis on might. He would keep such an emotion under lock and key, never to see the light of day. So instead his nose pushed up her stomach, feeling her breath and pulse under him, listening to the noises of her body, and glanced upwards with his hardened, silver eyes, a small snarl on his lips. This body in this moment was his, she was his, and he would drive that point home as hard as possible.

"What the hell are you doing…?" Georgie's voice came out as little more than a rasp, her face holding suspicion and her eyebrows knit in terse curiosity. The convict found her confusion endearing, innocents in someone as toughened and jaded as George was something of a rarity, and as he came up between her revealed breasts he bit down hard into the soft flesh.

She growled and bucked under him when copper filled his mouth, that same spicy, hot, sweet copper with a taste as unique as the woman that was under him. Sucking on the wound harshly until he felt the flow slow down and the skin start to swell, closing the injured and angry flesh, he licked at it hungrily. Pulling back he stared at the violent mark before running his hands from her now bruised hips to his belt, undoing it within a few snaps and pulling it from the loops easily. Her prone body shifted against him when she heard that noise, now on familiar ground and knowing just what was coming to her the usual air of cocky confidence slammed down around her.

Riddick pulled away from George for only a moment and she found herself oddly devoid of the heat that he had brought burning with him. Her chest burned where he had so savagely bitten her and she could already feel the sting of bacteria entering it from the air around them. She felt him shift, the rustling of his belt hitting the ground followed by the loud metallic thunk of the buckle slamming onto the bottom of the merc ship. Try as she might her feeble eyes couldn't pierce the inky blackness and though she feared the dark, as all humans without a shine job did, the very thought that he could see her when she could not see him was exciting. She loved it and hated it at the same time, and it was that same conflict that had first drawn her to the enigma that was Riddick. She wanted to solve him and figure out what made him tick only to find the more she learned the more mysterious and unreachable he became. It was like trying to hold water in your bare hands in bigger and bigger amounts, you might get a small glimpse into the inside workings and swirling of it, but it was gone in an instant back into the whole, leaving you confused and wondering what that one small bit had to do with the being that it was a part of. A zipper being pulled down and then the shifting around of well worn cargos filled the air around her, her ears twitching from the sudden invasion of sound, while she licked her lips slowly in thought. She would never solve him… she was never meant to. No one was.

Mattress groaning once again told Georgina that Riddick had pulled back onto the bed. His calloused fingers gripped onto her hips again and she was lifted up into the air and back onto his thighs, where her body was arched off of the sheets and her arms were held painfully above her head. Grimacing she didn't voice her discomfort but instead let out a small moan when a scorching hot something touched the inside of her thigh, brushing up against the curve of her folds. A shock of pleasure ran up her spine when she felt a palm sweep over her junction, running against the damp curls and flesh, before that same burning thing was back. This time it rubbed at the bottom of her entrance, undoubtedly led by a hand that was not gripping into her rear firmly, and ran the full length of her slit until it hit the top end.

A gasp tore from George's lips, her eyes shutting, when that same burning thing pushed against her clit over and over again, rubbing against the already alert and overtly sensitized item. She didn't doubt what that thing was and when it came to her dripping opening, still incredibly damp from earlier, he slicked it around, even going so far as to push the head in for a brief moment before retreating and returning to teasing her heartlessly.

Riddick watched as George started to shift and grunt under him, her body aware that his was seeking entrance and was willingly giving it to him. Her arousal was heavy in the atmosphere of the ship, hitting him over and over in increasing waves. Her hips rolled in time with each tease now, her arms straining against the restraints he had put upon her, and he watched in absorption. Organ in hand he lead it up from the crack of her rear all the way up, passed her desperate wanting, all the way to the tip and back again. Every time he passed her opening he had to resist the urge to just plunge into her, resorting instead to just gritting his teeth. He wanted to drive her mad. Wanted the proud thing beneath him to ask for him, not just accept him, to breath his name and only his name, to plead for his torture to end. Watching her neck roll as her head did, her eyes now closed and a hot breath escaping her lips in an almost visible cloud to Riddick's vision he noted her pull on the binding again.

George opened her eyes and snarled at him. She shifted her hips in vain to get him to enter her on one of his passes but he pulled away just in time, denying both of them the joy of union. Her irritation was like a vapor coming from her and her teeth were soon bared at him, her displeasure paramount.

"Damn it, Riddick, what the hell are you waiting for!?" she snapped, her body shivering from anticipation of the ripping bliss that came whenever she paired with the man towering above her. His hands suddenly came down to her sides and he was pressed up intimately to her, his large lips to her ear and a smirk settling smugly on his features. She could almost see his damnable handsome face twisting into that sneer and it caused a ripple through her core that was already burning and coiling in preparation.

His organ slicked against her opening again as he dragged his lips over her ear, brushing his tongue around the shell and breathing damply. "You gotta ask, girlie," he growled.

His weight was overpowering and she was reminded just how big of a difference in power there was between them. His pure strength radiated into her, pushed her into the softness that surrounded them, and seemed to crush her body. The hard muscles that carved his form were pressed against her, each and every curve and harsh line pushed into her own and tried to move only to find his measure too great. Her pride refused to allow such a thing as bowing to him. To ask to be fucked was something she wouldn't do. She wasn't some common whore, she wouldn't beg for him, not in a million years! Yet the burning that was aching between her legs was magnified by the heated rod pressed so agonizingly close, promising her release if she just caved in.

"Screw you," she snapped before she could think on his offer.

A bark of a laugh ripped through the darkness around her and his weight moved over hers slowly. It drifted down until he was yet again sitting between her splayed legs and she silently cursed being tied again. If she were free it would be so much easier to just push him over and mount him, that way this little show of dominance wouldn't be needed. She felt his mocking stare, could almost feel the cock of that incredulous eyebrow, before his fingertips once more traced down her scars. "Fine, but I'm not gonna give ya what you want until you ask. We have four days, Georgie, I'm a patient guy, but lets see how long you can go…" she was about to retort sharply with 'then untie me cause it ain't gonna happen' when his fingers dipped into her folds deftly.

An unwanted groan lifted from her chest when his thumb brushed against her bud and caused her hips to twitch. Fingers sweeping downwards he ran the tips over the entrance that was so begging for his attention, dipping in a few for a second before pulling them out and repeating the process. George glared at him though her thighs were closing around his and her body was becoming rapidly hot and slick with sweat. She wondered, indeed, how long she would last. It had been shown in the past just how little self control she had when it came to him, but she was stubborn. She would be damned if she would beg for him like some common slave or slut. She bit her lip to muffle a groan again when he dipped his entire middle finger in and pumped it in and out for a few then pulled it out and tortured her bundle. Somehow, someway, he always found ways to make her feel more than any other guy had managed.

He took relish in seeing her writhe and squirm at his mercy. Watching as her face twisted in defiance though there was a flush spreading across her body and her wetness was increasing with each minute. Her stubbornness lasted a while longer than he thought it would. Riddick would pull away whenever she gave signs of being close to the edge and leave her alone for a few minutes, until she was sitting there panting and staring heatedly in his direction, her chest heaving in motion. Then he would start it all over again. George lasted a valiant effort but even then in the end it proved futile. It took ten minutes of this strenuous game until he finally noted a change in her, her body going tense and a silent war going through her eyes. Then it came…

"God damn it, Riddick, if you don't fuck me now I swear I'll find a way to kill you!" George's eyes snapped up to the small little dots of glowing silver that managed to show in the darkness like beacons and her only indication of where he was. There was a low rumble akin to a chuckle and he pulled his finger from her yet again, leaving her core tender and needing any kind of stimulation now. She didn't care at this point. What was wounded pride in the hindsight of the fact that they had four freaking days to do whatever the hell they wanted? Or rather, whatever the hell he wanted. She was kinda tied to the bed.

The red head's eyes rolled into her head and a loud moan escaped her lips when Riddick entered into her gruffly, wasting no time in sheathing himself completely into her. He shifted to where her hips were even with his, arms wrapped around the small of her back while his knees dug into the bed with little thoughts. George held her breath when he pulled back and slammed back in, jarring her entire body with the movement. She could sense his eyes watching her chest at the motion as he did it again. When he began a firm, set pace, easing her into the hard pattern he most often did, she could feel her body start to tighten already and the coil of hot pleasure increasing in her stomach. Each movement caused her to let out a small cry, pulling at the ties that held her into place while trying desperately to move her hips in time with his.

Riddick held onto her back as he slid out again and rammed back in sternly, listening with grateful ears when she moaned loudly. With each movement he felt her walls already start to strain against him, trying hard not to clench down in a moment of completion already. George's body was deliciously burning from her previous orgasm and the walls were coated and easy to pass through as he drew his hips back and brought them back into hers at an angled and controlled pace. Her legs closed tighter around his waist and he watched as she arched her back to try to thrust down on him with equal force only to manage to roll her hips pathetically. To know that she couldn't go at him, go with him, like they usually did made him growl deep in his throat. He was in complete control.

Plunging in again a shock of blinding bliss abruptly shot up his back and he rolled his head back, letting out a loud breath. His animal instincts guided him as he shifted and pushed harder, each thrust getting him closer to the building that was happening within his entire lower body. Riddick gritted his teeth when another jolt ran up his body and spurred on his thrusts harshly. He bent over and shifted his knees, momentarily stopping their coupling and listening to her pant for air from the sudden change of action, before he pulled all the way out and crashed back in forcefully.

George gripped into her ties now and let out a silent scream of pleasure as his hips suddenly began to go at a blinding pace against hers, crashing in and out with abandon that was calculated and refined and yet wild and tasteless. She gripped into the crying fiber as hard as she could, her eyes closing so tightly that even the vision behind her eyelids was filled with stars. The coil in her stomach was now impossibly tight, harsh and searing until it felt like she had no stomach, no bones, nothing but Riddick's slamming pace. When he abruptly turned her hips to the side slightly and struck at the one spot he knew would cause her to scream she did just that, her mouth opening up in a yelp of unexpected white bliss that filled her eyes for a second before being replaced by the spotted blackness. She could hear her blood flow in her ears, everything was heightened by her inability to see, and could even feel her own heart pounding the blood through her veins.

Her body moved of its own accord now. She couldn't form a single thought with his jarring current, pushing and pulling at a blistering pace that she didn't know was possible, a rhythm that was thundering and pounding within her to dizzying heights. It was almost spiritual where her brain was resting at, shinning, clear, and peaceful, filled only with the explosion that was happening between the two convicted killers, nothing could touch her as she floated in this sea. She felt herself pushed back down onto the bed, void of Riddick's joining for a mere second, but that second seemed like forever. It stretched on and on and her brain slammed back into reality, away from that joyous world of rhythm and peace and into an area where she felt empty, incredibly frustrated and needing release. Just as she voiced her displeasure at his stopping his hands pushed her hips all the way down into the mattress and he pushed back into her at a sharp angle, his knees pushing hers aside.

Riddick threw away all pretenses about being anywhere close to contained. Something was roaring in his ears and he didn't know if it was the beast in him or the blood that was rushing through his expanded capillaries but he didn't care, all that fucking mattered was screwing Georgina into the mattress so hard that she left a damn dent. He thrusted with carelessness, nearly pulling out all the way on accident, and soon his own grunts filled the air along with her cries and moans of distressful pleasure. Toes curling into the sheets he gripped hard into her curves, rolling his body over hers and watching in satisfaction, his gaze blazing, as her form writhed and bucked under his, stretched out due to the useful shirt. Leaning over her took her neck into his mouth and bit down hard as he had done to her chest, causing a hiss to come from her mouth in that way that caused his own core to jolt and his hips to increase the pressure upon hers. Blood filled his mouth and he sucked on it happily, his mind fuzzing over and the only that mattered was sating the insatiable hunger in the pit of his stomach.

It happened in a series of events, quickly and in a matter of seconds. Just as Riddick pulled from her neck and took one of her nipples into his mouth, pulling on it hard with his sharp teeth and forcing her back to arch up painfully, his hips crashed in fully and completely. George had stopped breathing for a second, her fingers scrapping at the fabric that held her there, and her legs had clamped so firmly around his waist that he could feel very slight bruises forming already. Then, her core, so blissfully scorching and coated, clenched down and held him there, hard as a stone. Grunting and wincing Riddick had to resist the urge to shoot into her then and there, his body suddenly twitching and rippling with the sensation of her now spasming under him and around him.

His silver gaze watched as George's head tossed back and a silent cry escaped as little more than a sob like noise, her toes scrapping at the sheets in desperation for something to cling to in order to keep her on this plane. Sweat shinned off of her body in streaks, running down her scared sides and face, pooling under her in small darkened circles, as her entire body began to violently convulse. He stopped all movements during her fit, holding back the need to orgasm himself just from watching her shiver and gasp his name darkly. Fresh liquid spilled down onto his shaft, down onto his thighs and bed, and he relished in the scent of sex that wafted around him and settled heavily into his chest.

"G-God," George whimpered when she finally stopped enough to form coherent words. She opened her brown eyes lazily and stared up where she knew his head to be, her chest heaving in uncaught breaths. Then she felt something she hadn't expected. He moved again, out of her, but to her shock she felt him still quite hard and ready to go still. She was gaping at him, her body lax and languid from exhaustion, her vision still filled with violent stars and sparks, when she felt the ties around her wrists being undone.

"We're not done yet," Riddick stated matter of factly. When she felt her arms free and the shirt tossed aside she still laid in that position, staring at him in mild shock that he had denied himself the chance of release. But then she was picked up and turned around, her face coming to rest into the pillow she was lying on while her hips were jostled into the air gruffly.

He slid back into her and George couldn't help the small sob noise that came from her lips. She was overly sensitive now. Her body had just experienced two very jarring orgasms in a row and was trying to recover when he started to hammer away once more, hitting against her sore walls mercilessly. And though her coil was now winding tighter and faster than every it was painful, as hurtful as it was satisfying She rose up onto her elbows, trying in vain to hold herself up as he ripped into her from behind. She could hear and feel his testicles slapping against her thighs, feel them making the skin that was wet from his torture raw and red with the continued force.

She wouldn't last long and he knew it. Riddick knew how the human female body worked from years of practice and experience. Usually during a time such as this, when put under such an amount of pressure and pleasure the body amplified every touch, every slide, every thrust, and it would make her orgasm over and over until she passed out. If she was leaving he'd be damn sure to leave his mark on her… she would remember this night for the rest of her life if only for the fact of how pitiless he was being with her. Watching as her back arched and she tried valiantly now to keep up with him, her body sluggish and those same elicited moans and cries coming out steadily louder and louder with each entrance, he couldn't help himself.

Skimming his hands over her rear he gripped into the soft skin hard until red marks showed around his hands and he knew that she would be soar there for the next few weeks. Finally, finding that his own body was starting to betray his plans and that he was starting to see spots he lowered himself to where his chin was in the crook of her neck, overpowering her with his weight and causing a small whimper to come from her throat, he wrapped his arms around her hips and sped up to his full ability. That was her end.

She buried her face into the sheets and stopped all movements on her part, her breath once again held while her fingers gripped into the bed until small puncture marks formed. She clenched and undulated around him faster than before, more reckless. He didn't stop this time however. Instead he bit down onto her shoulder hard and continued his frantic pace, his legs growing tight and taught with coming completion while the woman under him, finished with her own third cried out and tried to shrug him off of her.

"Jesus… Riddick, no more! I can't handle… anymore!" her voice was breathy and airy and there was extreme anxiety in her voice that he found alluring. His legs intertwined with hers he didn't pay attention to her cries of distress, instead he pushed harder and harder until he felt it. He brought a finger to her clit and pushed down on it hard, until he felt blood rush there and for sure a wicked bruise form, and the woman under him bucked feebly.

A roar ripped from Riddick's throat, pushing himself up off of her and gripping into her hips for dear life. Stream after hot stream shot from him and into her convulsing, abused opening, his backside tensing and his toes curling into the sheets deeply. Nothing existed but that moment and he let out a series of grunts as each spurt came, filling George and causing the red head to whimper and moan under him, her body shivering with exhaustion. His silver gaze was filled with nothing, not even the usually white that came with his oblivion, but for a second he was truly blind.

Georgina let out a relieved noise when at last he pulled out of her, soft and unable to pursue her anymore. She sunk her body onto the bed and laid there, limp and ragged, while her mouth was still open to drag in as much air as humanly possible. Tired beyond all comparison she closed her gaze and allowed her body to drift off into slumber, the last thing she felt was being pulled flush against Riddick's large chest, her back curving into his body. She didn't even have the energy to fight him off. She was asleep within seconds.

Riddick stared at a wall across from him as he felt George's breathing even out slowly, her body relaxing and the temperature of her overheated form returning to normal. His own form was thrumming in idyllic contentment, satisfied beyond a reasonable doubt. Dipping down he took a final whiff of her scent before closing his own eyes and allowing himself to sleep for the first time in a few weeks since leaving that station. The next four days, even if this night hadn't taken place, would be engrained into George. Every bite, every bruise, every hickie, every pulse pounding hours long session would become a part of her and she would have no choice but to remember. No one would know… that his worst fear was to be forgotten.


	14. Chapter 14 Separation and Business

**Chapter fourteen: **

**Separation and business **

**Sorry this is kinda late! But bajesus was this chapter hard to write. Well the first half… I usually am sadistic to my characters and revel in their suffering but this time it was kinda sad and… touched me. I think I might be getting a cold. Ha-ha. **

The docking station came into view faster than either would have liked. They had broken through the atmosphere just a few hours ago and had gone skimming along the planets waters, waiting for a good station in which to stop and to begin docking procedures. Pletiam was an okay planet on the surface, out in space you could almost not tell just what kind of things were king on the crust of it and just who called it home. You could almost forget what kind of system you were in.

The waters were a pristine green, brimming with kelp gardens on the bottom of the sea floors, and the ground was splattered with forests of broad leaf trees. Skies that would have been a deep amber, however, were clouded over in deep smog from the pollution of continual habitation, and the animals of this planet had long mutated from their original form into something other than. Something that most people didn't want to see for fear of losing some form of appetite or meal. The planet had once been beautiful, had been part of the Alliance once upon a time, had been one of the original forms in the systems making up the power force that now ran the majority of known space, but now it merely served as a reminder as to just what overexpansion of an empire could do and just how corrupt it could lead people to become. Seas that would have been teeming with fish and wild life was unsafe to even touch and the soil was scorched and fallow making it almost impossible to farm from the grounds.

Once you broke atmosphere you were reminded sharply of just how much the planet had declined since its once just and righteous heyday. Merc and pirate ships hung in the air, either tethered or anchored, docked or ported, hanging like behemoths in the sky as massive shadows of ominous danger. Spires of industry rose and scrapped against the smog filtered amber, seeking the pierce into the once pure heavens and once more taste the sweet innocents this place had once housed. Cities dotted the entire surface, even on the waters where there were floating colonies of trading and commerce. The only problem with that was most of the time the trading was fellow mortal lives or illegal weapons and drugs. Free enterprise was all well and good, but slavery was something George just couldn't get behind. She would rather die than to be resorted to such a stature.

Monoria was the largest city on the surface of Pletiam, and as with all metropolis' it had a high crime rate and a low desirability. Which was why the mercenaries loved this place so much and why much of the crime syndicates based their empires out of this rat's nest, no one would bother them. The Alliance had once tried to help this planet and its system it orbited, had tried and failed, and had thus given up. It had been abandoned and allowed to fester into the sink hole that it was now all in hopes that the disease would settle there and wouldn't spread. Like that would happen. Monoria had been a mining town once, back when the planet was just being settled, and so there were still active coring stations around the sites of the city, each pumping out plumes of jet black smoke to further contaminate the planet in which they were stationed.

It was a wonder that this heap of rock and stone was still kicking. George glanced out the side of the head's windows, crossing her arms under her chest. Riddick's handling of the merc ship, or rather, his ship, was smooth and flawless as he once more circled the dock, scanning the local area and listening in intently to the other vessels around him through their commsystem. News had indeed spread of their escape since their time in cryo sleep, but luckily no one thought that they would be stupid enough to come here, of all places. The Merc mother ship, where most of them were stationed in their free time, much less their home bases. George could still feel Riddick's distaste of her wanting to be dropped off here.

For once this system had only one sun. It was a blue star, stationed now high in noon position, shinning the sapphire rays down upon the defiled soil and souls beneath. She had not seen a system with only one star in some time now, thanks to the dark of the Slam, her time on Tramius, and then wandering aimlessly among space before even that. It was refreshing to not be completely blinded by the overpowering brightness that came with such mass amounts of light. Then again, she side glanced at Riddick, it must be even worse for him on planets such as those within the Tramius. Just what was he doing in such a place? One did not weaken oneself on purpose.

The ship smoothly turned onto its side, skimming through the air with practiced ease as it once more circled the port, waiting for its signal to come into a docking station. The sounds of flips being switched on and off, of the system checks and analysis, and the feel of the pressurizes pushing cooled, natural air through the vents of the ship invaded the senses. This was it, they were but a mere hour, tops, from them separating. Then why the hell did it feel like this wasn't the end? Why the fuck did George feel like this wasn't right on some level… she had allowed herself foolishly to grow used to something, to become somewhat attached. It felt wrong to leave. That was all the more reason to flee while she could. She didn't know if it was Riddick himself, or the kind of life he could offer her, one free of boredom of any kind, but she couldn't allow this thought of being happy, of having someone to lean on finally, go unpunished. Alone was where she belonged. It was all she could handle.

She had already started to distance herself during the last day and a half. She remembered it even still, having his body almost constantly above hers, behind her, his hands on her skin and his teeth digging into whatever area he could reach, but she'd pushed aside the pleasure and started to stabilize. Though the last four days had been, in all reality, great and mind blowing and had implanted a firm soreness between her legs from the almost nonstop action, she had other things to think about. Other things to do. And besides, even if they did for some insane reason stay together what would they do? Sex a partnership did not make. Not a stable and productive one. They would be poison to each other, she could just tell… any relationship formed would be incredibly toxic and would eventually lead to the downfall of them both. Better to cut tail now than to have harm come to her; her own safety was paramount, his came secondary if at all.

"Not that it's any of my business, Georgie, but who ya here to kill?" Riddick's voice broke through the tense, expectant silence that was only shattered by the machines whirring and the beeping of the system stats running across the screens. George didn't bother to look at him, instead opting to stare down at the other docked ships and at the water that was stirring under the ships powerful thrusters.

"You're right, it isn't your business," she said icily, her tone brisk and clear. There wouldn't be any talk of what she did from here on out. She had let it slip that she was a gun for hire, just like the man next to her, but other than that she would not reveal her resources and her clients. They may have been intimate but not nearly close enough to be that giving with her hard earned information. The usual suspicion that came with her career was rearing its head and the distrust that flooded from her very soul was once more rising. It was time to go back to being utterly isolated, no more relying on someone else to save her ass if things got horribly bad.

George was used to living life like that. She was grateful for finally having to be on her own once more.

Riddick gave a short grunt beside her, voicing his displeasure only mildly at her answer, before returning to maintenance checks and running the life support pre-landing requirements. He was typing something in on the side computer, muttering to the device, and when a small ding sounded George knew that all systems were functioning properly and that the ship was in perfect order. As perfect as a merc ship, of all vessels, could be. Merc's had some nice space crafts though, for the most part, for they had to be top of the line in order to keep up with people like Riddick and herself. Finding ways to make catching a mark more effective and efficient were what many of them were about, all about the payday. If supping out their craft and making sure it was in top shape was the cost then a good majority of the damnable creatures would do it. She supposed she should thank the dead mercenaries on Brigitus for having such a nice boat, after all she wouldn't be here without them and their top grade fuel cells, but to admit thanks to filth such as them made her stomach churn. Instead, George merely decided that the tense silence from her actually chastising the bald man next to her, this lion of a male that could snap her in half without a second thought, was better than thinking she wouldn't be here without the assistance of some unwitting victims.

"Just don't get your ass killed. I don't want to think that I busted you out of there for no reason," Riddick grumbled.

George span on him, her eyes narrowed and her mouth opened in an incredulous gape. She was about to start telling him off in a deathly quiet tone that told of her inner storm of wanting to not only kill him but to stuff his dick down his throat and replace his eyeballs with his balls, when a crackling came over the commsystem. Riddick switched a series of red buttons before entering the pass code, finally enabling the others to speak to him through the system.

"Roger that; Hunterforce niner fox delta, you have clearance for landing. You're docking station is 12b, should a mechanic meet you there for repairs to your vessel?" the voice of a man came tearing through the speakers ungracefully, cracking and breaking through the wiring. George winced when there was the sound of back feed, her nose wrinkling in distaste.

Riddick glanced at the system checks and noted each and every stat. The only thing that needed any kind of repair was the shielding on one of the wings and that would only take a few hours at best, but he could do that himself. There was no reason to get another person involved, another person that could recognize them. So instead her turned to the woman accompanying him, the red headed fire house that had kept him interested far longer than he thought possible and noted the dark look in her brown eyes. She didn't see any reason to involve anyone else as well, and from the way that her teeth were bared in a slight growl like motion he smirked despite himself. It would have a negative affect on not just him but her as well should anyone spot them on this planet. The chances of them getting caught and sent to another slam were high in those instances. So instead he shifted in his chair and looped around again, the ship on its side and gliding through the air with easy grace.

"That won't be necessary. I'm just here to restock a few things, drop off a passenger or two, and then I'll be off. Got a hunt to get to on Ichon," Riddick stated in that deep voice. The radio went silent for a few minutes before a small ringing noise issued forth followed by a triumphant sounding bell, informing both of the passengers that the dock had been cleared. It was now or never.

Upon receiving the information on the docks location the male convict punched in the coding. Once finished he took his hands off of the controls and watched in satisfaction as his work caused the ship to steer itself, turning once more on its side sharply before smoothing out and zipping towards the other side of the towering, cork screw like structure. The other ships zipped by their sight, each of them either in the process of docking or leaving, all filled brimming undoubtedly with enemies after criminal's such as themselves hides. It was like the old adage said, 'the safest place to hide from the enemy is from within', where they wouldn't suspect you would ever go. Metal glinting in the sunshine of the singular star danced within their vision and the city beneath was a hustle and bustle of commerce of questionable practices.

Riddick glanced at George from the corner of his goggles, his eyebrows knitting. He still did not understand her reason for coming here. Sure, if she wanted to kill a merc that had wronged her then this was the place to do it, but she was at a great risk of being discovered or of someone just randomly deciding that she looked like an easy target and would get slaved off. There were far too many risks for coming to Pletiam. He noticed just how she was refusing to look at him and could feel the iciness and distance that had been erected almost overnight by the female killer. He had noted it the second she had started the process, right in the middle of him plowing her into the kitchen's counter during what was supposed to be a break, her body bent over it and gripping into the wall with a tenacity he had come to admire. She had become less vocal and at one point had looked somewhat bored and was deep in thought. He'd been pissed at the time and had forced her mind back to what was happening by smacking her hard across the rear and forcing a surprised and indignant gasp to come from her lips. It had worked but only for around an hour and then she had started all over again.

In a way he was proud that she was the one to start it, and in another he was angry with himself for not thinking it as well. He had been willing to just enjoy their four days and deal with the parting when it happened; after all he was good at just walking away from someone. But her technique allowed for recovery time before the initial shock to begin with. He cursed his sometimes simple mind.

"Don't worry about me, I'm good at surviving," George suddenly snapped him from his thoughts and he swiveled his captains chair to where he was facing her directly.

Turning in her own chair she drew a wicked smile to her lips and flashed a dagger from her hip and twirled it with ease in her fingers. Riddick couldn't help but cock an eyebrow skeptically. "Really now, Georgina?" he asked mockingly, alluding that she wouldn't' have survived the prison without his assistance. As he had expected insult flared within those burning brown eyes and she gave him a spat, her shoulders tensing considerably.

But then she returned to the smug girl she really was. "Remember, Riddick, I got on just fine before you. You just happened to complicate things, baldy, and made my job that much harder back there. I've lived for this long and I'll be damned if I stop living on a rock such as this," she whispered before turning back to staring down at the city with malice in her gaze.

Riddick let the subject drop but dissected her statement all the same. It was true, she had lived to be twenty five on her own, had grown into an accomplished bounty hunter and hit man all on her own as well, so then what was it to him if she went off on her own now? She'd been alone for so long she probably didn't know how to deal with human interaction anymore, just like him. The only reason they had gotten along was because they were alike. They were similar, too similar, too wild, and too animalistic for normal people to even begin to understand them.

He wondered how long, however, someone on George's path could live. Then again to wonder that would be to ponder how much longer he had in this universe. It was a subject he didn't like to dwell on too often because then the saw all the people he had ever cared about in their moments of death. It was fucked up how he had been witness to each and every one of their deaths, so fucked up that it made his head spin sometimes. Then again, it made him into who he was today. Now if he could only figure out if that was a good thing or a bad thing. Some would say that it was a bad thing he was the way he was, after all he was a murderer and an over all bad man… come to think of it he couldn't think of anyone besides mercs after his head that would say what he did was a good thing.

Riddick had been lost in thought that he almost didn't register the fact that they were pulling up to their gate and that their dock was slowly extending from the large metal spiral. It moved silently through the air as it stretched out and began to emit a small light to the guiding senses of the ship on the wings, signaling just where it was, while the opening upon this level slowly slid open. He watched with narrowed silver eyes then glanced over to where the other vessels were attached to this dock, watching intently to see for any sudden movements. It was unusual that he would have gotten away so scotch clean with this ship, so much so that he was starting to get suspicious that something else was going on here. Usually when he hijacked a merc ship the others were alerted through a system aboard the captured liner and he had enemies on his ass after a few weeks. This one had actually managed to get him to this scum hole with no incidents. If all went well he would have to abandon it only within half a year and then he would just take another one. Stealing was a beautiful thing when it served him.

With a lurch the ship came to a haul. Clicking and whirling filled the air and the sound of metal gears sliding together in unison, locking the ship into place, jarred Riddick from any and all thoughts he was immersed in. Hissing and a sharp blast of air into the head told them that the life-support had been abandoned and that the ship was now filtering in chilled outer air of the actual planets atmosphere. Riddick's silver eyes glared at the opened up gate, his hands now resting idly on the controls while a frown was creasing at the edge of his lips. This was it…

The gaping maw of the docking station was ominous, standing there like some massive beast ready to eat those who stepped within. In a way it was because once George stepped foot into the station she would disappear into the crowds and would be lost to him for the rest of his natural life. It was dark and foreboding, a deep, pressing feeling pressing on his chest. He was confused by this ache suddenly coming in as he listened to the red head shift and unlatch herself from the seat and start to get up with a stiff stretch. He wasn't good with emotions, he suppressed them and ignored them, they always got in the way and got good, innocent people killed or warped just from being near him, so the mere fact that he was actually feeling some remorse or sorrow over the fellow convict leaving was confusing and irritating to no end. Riddick was getting angered just at the uncomfortable feeling sitting on his chest, and was getting cantankerous at the woman that was causing it all.

"Well, time to get my pilfered goods," Georgina muttered before leaving him in the head. Her footsteps echoed hard in the silence of the ship, little could break the dead weight of the haul of this thing and the outside world didn't seem to exist. He was fairly sure this thing was sound proof… He listened as the door to their room, his room, slid open with a hiss and her entering it with heavy steps. Her scent was unreadable, something he didn't think was possible, but he chalked it up to his own confusion and the fact that there were many emotions in her own that were swirling and fighting for dominion that there wasn't any one particular one that stood out.

Riddick decided it wasn't worth it to keep straining his ears but instead stood and hung from the seal of the cockpit, cocking his head to the side. He glanced over to where the cargo hold would open and let her out, and then himself in a few hours after doing post docking checks, and found himself hating that door. But it had to be done. No use hating a door when it was something that had to happen and really was the best thing for both of them, if she stayed then his chances of dying increased greatly and her chances of dying were almost completely full. Not to mention he wasn't meant to be with people at all. Still, it had been… nice… while it lasted.

A few minutes later while he still brooded George had just finished packing and was glancing around the room with a tight, controlled look on her features. The room was small, like all rooms on any ship were, but now that her things or rather the things of the killed mercenary woman, no longer there but instead packed away in a durable little duffle no larger than the length of her thigh the place looked towering and nearly frightening. This was Riddick's room now, she was intruding, this was his space. She wasn't welcome here anymore. Glancing over her shoulder she spotted the small mark she'd made with a dagger when they'd gotten into a fight just a few days ago, some stupid thing when he had insulted her in that same mocking way he always did… the rest of the memory was merely of him pinning her down to the wall and having his way with her, where her dagger had made a long cut line in the paint. She wondered how long she would remember Riddick for. She tended to push painful things such as goodbye away and completely forget.

Painful? Goodbyes are never painful, hell her own brothers had been more aggravating and seething than hurtful. This one felt more final than that one had though, this one spoke of the resolution that was behind it. Oh well. Picking up the black duffle by the strong handle she threw it over her shoulder and glanced herself over in the small mirror next to her, staring at her cleaned tank top and cargo's, making sure that her daggers were hidden and that she didn't look anything other than another merc or bounty hunter.

Blending in was essential more than ever now. Turning she walked from the metal encased room and out into the long passenger hold, gripping the handle of her bag fiercely. The second she stepped out her entire body was washed in that same cold fear that came no matter what when fixed with the eyes of the one and only Richard B. Riddick. Her head turned slowly and she spotted him leaned up against the door frame, staring at her through those damn goggles that in this moment she found an undying hatred for. Was it that hard to ask for a simple sight of his silver eyes once more before she left? Probably; after all it was bright in here and it would hurt his orbs. Still, it would have been nice.

Riddick gave her a slight snarl like look, showing his fangs at her, before turning and walking quietly back into the head. The seat groaned under his bulk of muscle when he plopped down and started to press various buttons and switches, watching the gauges and outright ignoring her. George was slightly injured at that but had not expected anything different. After all, the best way to leave someone was to do it cold turkey. Still, as she wandered down the merc ship hold and was now before the massive doors of the cargo she couldn't help but think about just how much had happened in the past seven months and how much would after this. Now that she thought on it though, Riddick was only a small point of her life, a small little blip that would hardly mean anything in the long run.

Still, she turned and gave him a pensive look, putting her hand on the control of the haul. Pressing the code in it growled angrily, letting out a series of steaming hisses, before the metal lowered and let in the soft light of the hanger on the other side. Lowering slowly, far slower than she had seen it ever done before, she still stared at the man that had yet to even falter in his movements, unthawed by the abrupt breach. George bit her lower lip, debating, before stating very calmly and loud enough to where she knew the sensitive ears of the fellow killer could hear her:

"Guess this is farewell, Riddick."

Riddick didn't stop his typing into the computer but his mind had gone almost blank. He grunted to himself before thumbing over his response, taking his sweet time and choosing his final words very carefully. "If you're leaving, then get going. Remember our deal, Georgina Collins." That did it. Never before had he called her by her full name without it being mocking or taunting, this time it was just her name, just her, and he felt something restrict strangely at the sound of it.

A laugh lifted from George's ribs before she shook her head, a sneer on her lips while her dark brown eyes flared towards the back of his bald head. "Yea, whatever. Have a nice life," she called out before descending down the ramp and into the waiting hanger filled with boxes and slicks of oil from repair jobs. She didn't look back or even think of maybe going back onto the ship for something she might have forgotten. It was time to get the fuck out of dodge anyway, she had overstayed her welcome and it was time to do what she did best. What they both did best besides killing.

They both left without a second thought, determined to put the other passed them. After all, a relationship of any kind is just a mere flash in the mere flicker of a human life. Why piss and moan about it? Right…?

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

It had been a week. A full fucking week since she had been dropped off here and she had yet to do her work that she had been adamant on completing and doing it soon. Though it made sense and she could tell where her short comings had fallen into her from then to here it was still hard to swallow that she had, as of yet, spilled that stool pigeons blood. Oh he would get what was coming to him. But as of yet she was still trying to mildly adjust to the life pace that Pletiam forced upon you from the second you entered into the stale and dank planet. She had almost turned around and gone straight back up to the ship upon setting foot into the city.

Then again it was probably because Georgina Collins was not known for integrating into normal society whatsoever and that the closest friend she had had in recent memory was a fellow killer. It also probably didn't help that she had killed two mercs since she had landed and had to lay low for a few days until the heat died down in her cramped little room of a hostel. That had eaten quite a bit of her time… They had been asking for it though, recognizing her and everything. She had no choice, they had to die, now whether or not she had to slit their throats and then cut off a few body parts had yet to be seen but she liked to think it was a flair that was missing from most normal kills. Killing could be mundane if allowed to transgress that far and after doing it for so long to so many it got dull and lost its luster, you had to add a few spices here and there in order to make it more interesting. And that was where she was now. Adding spice.

George slipped along a rooftop as quietly as she could, bringing her new jacket close around her body while the surprisingly chill Pletiam night crashed around her. It seeped into her pores and to her bones, making them ache and shift uncomfortably beneath her skin, but she ignored it. Instead she walked across the darkened roofs with easy steps until she reached the end of one. Here, she crouched down on the edge, staring down with magnifying military grade goggles-thanks to her dead merc that gave her the current clothing she wore-with interest that was bar none. Though she had yet to succeed in killing Trey she had done much research in her time isolated from the rest of the planet and it was in that recon that she would find just the right time and place to kill him. She liked to think that when you dug into someone hard enough without physical interaction, delved into their thoughts and daily lives, what they did, how much they spent, who they spent their time with, and just what their vices were, then you were far stronger going into something than knowing nothing. Knowledge really was power in her line of work and it could mean the difference between life and death of her or her victim. Tail someone long enough and you got whatever information you ever needed to know about them. She never went into a job where she had not done the adequate number of hours doing coverage.

The familiar press of the sheath of her daggers were present, always, against her hip and the cool metal of a newly stolen gun rested on the small of her back under her jacket. Her mouth quirked for a moment as she thought of all the things that would be befitting a snitch such as Trey but returned to seriousness when met with the sight below on the streets of Pletiam. This planet was absolutely swarming with mercs twenty four seven, you couldn't take a damn step without running into one and risking the chance of getting recognized. It was making her job harder, but in the moments such as this, as a herd of them passed under her, undoubtedly heading back to their mother ship to go after another mark, she thanked her lucky stars she was no where near as renowned or prized as Riddick himself.

No, she was just Georgina Collins, gun for hire, killer of men and women alike, and an overall fucked up individual. There was nothing of notoriety about her besides her murder sheet that ran all the way back to her first when she had been in her tender teenage years. Oh how times had changed and how she had morphed into something unrecognizable since her days upon her home star of Artemis. She slunk back slightly when one of the mercs glanced up to the roof, perhaps having sensed her prying eyes, and watched as that particular one strayed from his pack. He stared up at the edging, at the shadows that encased it in the deep darkness of a single star system, trying to spot what he could feel that was up there.

Suddenly sensing his disconnection from his companions he started and ran down the cobbled street, back towards safety. And away from the killer that sat so nonchalantly among the stone and mortar above. George watched him go with a twinge of disappointment but then let it go, it would get in her way to have to kill a merc this night when she had set this moment aside for one special person. There would be plenty of mercs in the future, plenty that would be after her hide to put back into a Slam for cold hard creds, there was no reason to get dagger happy. So instead George sat down fully on the ledge, dangling her legs over the side and watching the people below with a callous gaze. Wind caressed her form from this high up, a good three stories of run down apartments, and made her jacket flutter very lightly from the heavy fabric it was made of. She was prepared to wait for as long as it took.

Trey Worthington, she had learned, was a very scheduled man. Surprising since she had always pegged him as erratic and thoughtless. You could never know another, she had learned that the hard way again with this man… and she would not allow herself to be so fooled ever. That and he had a strange last name that she didn't like, Worthington, like hell he was worthy of anything in her book. But she was bitter, who knew what the man really did? Perhaps this was how he made his living was turning in criminals after working with them, through a sloppy third party, and getting a portion of their bounty to himself. He started his day at the same time, did the same routine, went everywhere at the right time, and came back to conduct his business that she had learned would have been lucrative if it weren't for one thing. The man had a drug problem.

And currently he was at his midnight appointment at a local club, getting his fix and satisfying the addiction that gripped his mind and body. Morphine could be a deadly strong drug, there was no guarantee that when you used it you wouldn't become dependent upon it, in fact its use had been restricted to critically injured patients. She could feel the pulsing and throbbing music from all the way up here and could see the smoke from the machines billowing out from under the crack in the buildings door. It was small she would suppose, if she didn't know that the rest of the club lay under ground, and the building that was on the surface was run down. The walls were spotted with rust and the windows were filmy and covered over, showing only occasional flashes of light and moving bodies to aid George in passing the time. Soon she got into the rhythm that it was going in per song, every three seconds a red light would go off, then after that one second a green, then blue two seconds after that, and then white, then to start all over again. She had found out at a young age that she didn't particularly care for clubs… it just wasn't her style.

You went to places such as this to be wild, to let loose and allow yourself to escape from the uniformity and harshness of your day to day life. George was already wild, she was already untamed, she didn't need to go to a bar or a club to let loose when she could just as easily just go around and beat someone up or get a book and read for a few hours. Though places such as this could be great resources if used correctly. More often than not the bartenders were underpaid and all too willing to talk about customers or employers if you paid them with a big enough credit bill. She got a lot of good information from bartenders.

George, tired of merely sitting, stood and crossed her arms under her chest, waiting patiently. A quick glance to the small watch situated upon her wrist, that doubled as a detonator and a system check for her own body, told her from the laminating glow that it was now squarely at twelve forty six. Meaning that, even while under the drugs effects and being the timely creature that Trey was, he would soon be stumbling out of Amorphous, it was in moments like this that she praised herself for being so thorough in her research. She turned from the ledge when the door opened, confident in who was stepping out of the smoke hazed glorified orgy, and began to make her way towards the fire escape, a sneer tugging on her lips. Her mind was in the mind set of the predator that lived under her skin, roaring and hissing for the hunt, and now it would finally be quenched. She had been waiting for this moment for months and she would not be denied.

Down the groaning metal steps, her hands running over the jagged surfaces, she walked playing the scene she had set up at a special location in her mind. There would be no escape. She had yet to decide his ultimate fate, whether she would slice his throat, gut him, or leave him in that hell hole to bleed to death and slip into the state known as shock, cold and rigid, and into deaths arms. She would figure it out when her revenge was cut inch by inch from his flesh… Turning she jumped over the railing and landed with a small thud in the back of a dingy alleyway that smelled of stale alcohol, vomit, and blood. There were pools of an unknown, green shinning liquid littered around the ground, and trash was everywhere the eye could see in this area, but that didn't matter. She took in her surroundings, yes, like she always did, but this time her eyes fell upon the approaching figure that was stumbling and lurching its way towards the way she was hidden within.

George stepped back into a corner of the joined buildings, melting into the darkness and using her still dark sensitive eyes to watch with intense measures as the figure of Trey came blundering into the small area blindly. He had not changed since last they met, and she supposed that was a good thing for her. He still had that dingy, dirty blond hair that fell around his ears in strangely bent curls, glassy green eyes, and wore tattered and soiled clothing. Any and all profit he could have been making from bounties, making him a wealthy man, had gone into his addiction and had turned him into little more than a severely intelligent bum. The fates had a sense of humor that was wicked.

Her gaze trained upon the man named Trey. The familiar rush that came with the hunt ran through her, her blood sped up through her veins, rushing in her ears in a great swirl, her pulse pounded in her temples and throat… Nothing else existed in her vision, the sides became blurred out to blackness and grey and there was only the part of the alley where Trey was, where her prey was. Ears strained against the relative quiet of this area of town, listening for the scraping of his boots against the soiled ground. George licked her lips in anticipation, a nervous habit she found she had inherited from her father, as she dragged her daggers out silently from their sheaths. Adrenaline was reaching maddening levels within her chest, her body jumpy and ready for movement, any movement, and she had to bit her tongue to resist it. Tangy, coppery blood filled her mouth, adding to the haze of bloodlust that was clouding her brain, and when the figure of her prey was finally fully concealed from the world within the dark dankness of the alleyway she slipped along in the shadows and trailed after him, watching and waiting like a feral cat.

He was so cocky. So damn cocky… that's one of the things she remembered most about him and had caused the severe amount of anger within her to reside while in the confines of Brigitus. The way that when he was sober his mouth had formed into a sneer that roped to all of his features, how his green eyes had glinted with some unknown obscene knowledge that she would have killed to know; he had set her up... She had fallen for it hook line and sinker too. That's what aggravated her the most. She had had a gut feeling about the guy but no, she was desperate, thought that her old research on the guy was enough, that he was clean and that she was just being paranoid. She would never make the mistake of not listening to her instinct again. Now it was merely a chance to tie up loose ends that had brought her here.

She could smell the smoke and alcohol rolling off of his form from where she was now walking behind him. Though her footsteps in her heavy boots were far from silent like Riddick's had always somehow been, and the fact that the noise reverberated through the deathly still area, the poor man before her was so intoxicated that he didn't comprehend that he might be being stalked. A fatal flaw. Laughing to herself she came up behind him with a swagger, holding her glinting and wicked blades in her fingers firmly. How should she do it? To get his attention, that moment that would play through her head for forever. Though he would be just another name to add to her list he was special… unique… she had not been betrayed on that kind of scale in some time. She wanted his reaction to ripple through her being, force the thrill of what she was doing to pound into her body and make her shudder at the perfection of it all, she wanted to always remember his face, his eyes, his flesh draining of color upon seeing the one he thought dead or in a Slam. His final hours would be all too glorious, and she would never forget them, but she liked to make an impact… liked to see the fear, the agony, the shock, and most of all, the fucking regret!

Choice made George merely twirled a dagger, not heeding the whining that the metal made as it sliced through the air effortlessly, before bringing it up behind Trey in an arch. The sound, the fantastic sound of knife searing like butter through the fabric of his coat and shirt, that ripping; the sight of the edges, cut clean and sure, letting out threads from the poorly made garment; and then the lovely splash of red from a deep gash that accompanied such a wound, the skin having to take a few seconds to catch up to what had just happened… His gasp ripped through the air, pain filled and tortured, shocked at the sudden blinding agony, before he whipped around, his face torn into a terrified snarl all the while deep red ran from his back in a gushing flow. She would have to tend to that when he passed out in a few seconds… she didn't want him dead quite yet. It was too good for him to die in a filthy place like this.

"Long time no see," Georgina murmured silkily, her brown eyes burning with hatred and ire. The reaction was instant the second that Trey's eyes fully fell upon her.

Shuffling around to view her fully he gaped, staring wide eyed in disbelief. Just as she thought his face became pallid and pasty, sweat starting to bead on his brow from not only the pain that must be coursing through his body but also the shear fear of seeing her there. Standing before him, the woman he had sent to hell, the woman that he had thought he condemned to death, staring at him, her form imposing and her arms now crossed over her chest. The dagger that had done the harm to his now throbbing back was still dripping crimson and when his eyes flickered back to her face she could almost smell the terror in his form. So this is what Riddick had always described to her… that prickling mint like smell that came from a human when they were about to piss their pants.

Trey continued to gape like a fish, his lips actually starting to turn blue from the lack of breathing. She took in every detail of this scene and took it to memory, to her heart of hearts, where it would remain for all time. His green eyes showed nothing of the cocky arrogance they once reeked of, no, now they were nothing more than pooling puddles of dull emeralds. Emotions flashed through them faster than the murderer could count, but one kept coming into his now mouthing constancy, lament, sweet, sweet lament. George opened her arms for his reaction, allowing his inspection, allowing him a final moment to take her in before he passed out.

"You… how, how are you…??" his voice came out as a garbled mess, his mind clearly in too much pain and doped up on too much morphine to fully form any kind of coherent speech. Which was obvious from the fact that he hadn't screamed yet; though that was good. If he came along quietly there was less chance of her getting caught with this one.

George laughed out right at him, a barking, garish one that tore through the dingy alleyway. Trey winced at her booming at him before she returned to utter seriousness, that same twisted smile pulling at her lips. Her eyes were cold and he could sense his death in just being near her, his heart pounding in his ears and throat painfully, rushing and thrumming, while his instincts told him to run far, far away. However it was like his feet were nailed to the ground and the blood lose was starting to get to him. Lightheaded he tried again, "You're supposed to be…"

"What? Dead!?" George suddenly shouted at him and was before him, frighteningly close in his weakened state. Even in a normal mind frame and top form he wasn't a match for her, they had established this a long time ago, but even still it was like ice water was running through his veins. George relished in watching his terror and horror at seeing the her again before she waved. Within two seconds later he fell to the floor in a crumpled mess from blood and pain, leaving the red head convict to stare down at his prone body with a sneer.

Phase one complete… she thought smugly. She bent down and linked his arm around her neck, heaving him from the ground before putting her daggers back onto their sheaths. She hefted his body away from the blood pool and from the crime scene only to be taken to an isolated nowhere, where he would be treated to her intimate knowledge of the human body and its pressure system.


	15. Chapter 15 Only Lonely

**Chapter fifteen: **

**Only lonely**

Life was good, for the most part. The universe it seemed had settled down somewhat and the Alliance was starting to lessen up on its strict wartime policies. The threat of the necromongers was dwindling now that they were a mere fraction of their former selves, the once unstoppable army that had threatened the entirety of the human races little more than a chicken with its head cut off. Work was in ready supply, people were being fed, families reunited, and new ones starting; everything was exceptional compared to the crap shoot it had been for a good thirty years there. War times were good and all, it meant a boost in the economy and as sad as it was we need war to reboot the governments and bring people closer together again, but there was just a need for peace after so long an absence.

But even in times of peace and prosperity there still existed the need and will for death. People still wanted other people killed, whether they got in the way, or they were a threat to a business, or as simple and passionate as someone cheating on someone else and that person wanting their heart ripped out and mailed to the mistress. Murder for hire was as booming as ever, and though the higher up markings like political figures weren't as common or as lucrative anymore there were still plenty of other pickings to choose from. Plenty to choose and stay well kept and fed. It was a shame in many aspects that when people were just starting to relax people such as killers and drug dealers and whatnot were free to do as they please, albeit more cautiously. In times of peace it was easier to be spotted, easier to be caught.

So it was a good thing that long ago she had learned how to blend into just about any crowd, otherwise her ass would have been in a Slam again within the month. Even the most capable warrior would be useless without the ability to blend into ones surroundings. She had learned this the hard way when she was nineteen… Deep, bored brown eyes flickered upwards from the glass paneled table at which the figure they were attached to sat at. Fingers laced upon a hot, steaming cup of premium New Spanish coffee that contrasted with the crisp coming fall. It was nice here, peaceful, where she could stop and collect her thoughts while getting an acute caffeine high from the beverage before her. It was so quiet here that… George hated it.

There was only so much reflecting time that she could take before she seriously wanted to hurt something to get the blood pumping again. Let it never be said that Georgina Collins was not a violent person… if anything she was exceptionally so. She thumbed the lip of her mug as she watched the streets of Helion four, one of the farthest from the sun and yet it was blindingly bright here from the borrowed solar prowess of the Prime planet. A holy planet, a sacred system, often had the most need of someone dead; George had learned. Religious politics left a bitter taste and several things to be desired but it paid just as good as any other job, it was just sometimes the convict wished that they had the decency to at least let the target know that they were going to be targeted for some form of attack. It wasn't that George felt bad for those that were so consumed by their faith that they didn't stop to think that they could be taken out like some common criminal or drug lord on the street, far from it, but it was the fact that she was surrounded by people who believed in a higher being. People who were better off than she had been, people that couldn't possibly have experienced the pain and suffering she had throughout her late teens and early twenties, and yet still had everything. She believed in a God, yes she did, but she despised him, hated him, and was bitter to the fact that she had gone through so much only to end up where she was now.

She had once thought that her belief in a God would be her saving grace. It was true, George had been a very pious person when she had lived on her home planet of Artemis, had bowed to the moons and had prayed every night along with the rest of the orb. She had thought the great and forgiving lord would give her and her brother a chance, would allow them to live in comfort after such a trying ordeal as the take over of the Necromongers of their home. But he had spat in her face. He had given her only poverty and despair, her only hope to turn to killing to even make enough money to survive much less keep her brother healthy and somewhat happy. Killing someone was the highest sin in her families religion and she had no doubts that when she died she would be sported to hell along with the rest of the murderers, thieves, and dealers.

George bit her tongue to keep the hatred down within her soul and returned to sipping her coffee. She was beyond such thoughts now though. She had resigned herself to her life and ways of living a long time ago, when she had snapped in that slam, now all that was left was to live life while she could, however she could, and deal with the afterlife when it came. In the meantime she had work to do.

Her brown eyes narrowed sharply, critically, as she surveyed all of those around her. It had been interesting finding work after the death of her beloved friend Trey, as pathetic as he had been. He had been her ear to the stars, to listen to who wanted someone killed and for what price, and to even bother to tell her if it was worth while to go through with the hit. In essence he had been the driving force behind her business and why she was one of the top rated people out there today, third only to Riddick and second only to one other man that she had heard a few weeks ago was on the run from some dangerously skilled Mercs. Three years to the day that she had left him to die in that bunker outside of the capital city, spitting on his bruised, bloodied, and tattered form. She had decided not to take his life herself, that it would be too good of a fate for him, that she would be too kind to allow him death that quickly. Instead George had been cruel, dark, and twisted, like she was supposed to be in her line of work, and had left him in that place with a very prominent electrical beacon, broadcasting his location to anyone smart enough to see the signal and who it was. She had left him to the mercs that he had sold her out to.

They would be no where near as gentle as she had been with him. Mercs were notorious for hating when their game broke out of the Slams; because then they lost a great deal of money, namely all of it, and were left in debt from whatever they had bought with the bounty. Considering her head had been worth three million creds and then add to that they had to be in a foul mood since Riddick's had been worth twenty. She almost pitied that fucker for what he had to have gone through in his final moments… George had made sure to insert a heart rate monitor into his body, one that would tell when he went cold or if it was removed forcefully from his body, so his death was assured. The toad had gotten what he deserved. The worst thing you could do to a criminal was to rat them out and then you had better be wise enough and ready enough to deal with the consequences.

George blinked a moment, halfway through taking another sip of the hot, dark liquid that had energy thrumming through her veins. There was someone she had not thought about in a while. Riddick… in all of these three years she had not thought much on him, if at all, in fact after three months of having less and less concern over whatever the hell he was doing he had been pushed from her mind to be replaced with more serious matters. She couldn't remember when all thoughts on him had ceased. With his name came the flood of his image, that same stoic face, those goggles, his large frame, and that same indefinable air that he brought with him. That sharpness, that danger, that security, and the knowledge that as long as you were on his side you wouldn't wake up with a shiv in your back. She flexed her fingers once more on the coffee mug, stretching out her back within the confines of her drab red robes that were dusted with sand and dirt. She hadn't wondered where he was, what he was doing, in so long that now that the questions flittered across her mind they were awkward in forming. Like it was wrong to ponder on him, like when they had separated all right to think about him had been left on that ship.

And perhaps it had.

It was then that Georgina Collins remembered just why she didn't think about Riddick anymore. Thinking about Riddick tended to bring out the worst in her and the restlessness within her soul was suddenly paramount. She had always been a drifter, unable to stay in one spot for long, unable to just sit idle, and yet that seemed to be what she was doing lately. Not physically, of course, if she did that then she might as well turn herself in and slap on the shackles herself, but mentally she had been stagnant for a long time. Riddick, in her moments of knowing him over those last months, had made her mind work in overtime to understand how he had worked. She had learned, she had grown, she had been forced to evolve to understand the creature that was the fellow convict. Fear had melded into curiosity and then into respect, and from there it had turned into some unknown thing that had been heavy in the air even as she had walked out the door. Her mind had constantly been jumping, running, tumbling, and shifting, and it had been heaven. Never had someone intellectually stimulated the easily bored George as easily as he had, just his mere presence had been enough to make her brain kick into high gear. And when she had left that excitement was left with Riddick and she was stuck where she had been before the slam.

Her only relief was that of the sight of another persons pain… She was weak in many ways, she was not afraid to admit her faults, and this was just another thing that made her cringe in disgust. Someone had once told her it was you who had the power to change yourself, that only you could shape who you became, and no matter how much George hated what she had turned into… on some masochistic level she enjoyed it all. Deep down the darker side of her reveled in the things she did and could do. She was powerful, she held someone else's life in her hands, whether they would live or die, and that was worth all of the personal turmoil it brought with it.

Snarling George pushed the troubling train of mind aside before sitting back in her chair and shifting in her robes. Blending into a crowd was really one of her strong suites, Riddick could learn a thing or two about it sometimes. What with being ridiculously tall, bald, huge, and overly intimidating in shear presence alone, and you could tell who he was even if he was dressed up as a clown for a kids birthday party. With her it was easier. She was small, only five foot six, and her frame was that of any other in shape woman on any cosmos, add to that if you didn't look close enough she was average looking and that she generally stuck to not making any kind of scene and she was made for this kind of work. Namely, recon.

Though this line of gathering was boring and dull, spending hours on end just watching a target, learning their schedule, and getting to know them inside and out without ever making true contact, it was, again, essential. If you went after someone and they had company over, large, burly, hard to take down company with guns, then it would be much harder to get in, get out, and not receive any kind of damage to your person. So many things could go wrong that reconnaissance was necessary in order to stay alive and to be good at what she did, if you didn't then the number of possibilities with you sustaining critical injuries while the 'bad' guys got away increased dramatically. She didn't like to stack the odds against herself even if they made things more interesting. A clean, easy job was more along the lines of what she wanted out of this one, she could always get a challenge by going after some political train machine head with a million body guards, high tech security, and having to do an interspatial chase without her ion drive on and commsystem silent. No, this one would be short, sweet, and to the point.

Her target was a simple man, made of common thread as any other on Helion five, who had become something uncommon and quite special in the community in which he resided. Ishid Aljahard was a religion phenomenon that had come out of the left field with his radically different views on Muslim beliefs and how they should be interpreted into every day life. His lacks views in view of the normally strict religion as well as tolerance and preached charity towards other faiths had struck a cord with many and he was gaining momentum fast with his modified version of Christianity and Islam, a dangerous combination that the dual parties that had hired her didn't want. His ideas were sound; they spoke of peace and understanding and reminded her much of her own faith back on Artemis, they also emphasized on pity towards your fellow man and to always search for a nonviolent resolution to any problem. He saw religion as something that should not restrict but free, heal, and soothe the soul. There was no true hell, that you could be forgiven for anything if you just repented and tried your hardest to make up for it, and that God was kind and all understanding.

She personally liked his code of ethics and thought that someone like him had been a long time in the making in the current upheavals that were taking place between the two old religions. But… George's eyes once more darkened as she sipped at the strong, dark liquid that burned on its way down, warming her from the inside out. It was a shame that she had to kill him. He struck her as a man she would one day might have sat down to have an intellectual conversation on Gods and faith and how it all played into the political machine that was the Alliance. Money was money and she had been hired to take him away from the realm of the living. Who knew, maybe he would become a martyr and his cause would gain all that much more steam. Look at what happened to Jesus and Gandhi.

Another thing that could be said for Helion five was that it was freaking hot. It was like a desert. One would assume that given how much light they received from Prime that they would stop and hold it back, keep it to where it was bearable. George could only guess that they were trying to recreate that Middle East as much as possible here.

Three years….

She sighed and gave up though keeping her ears and eyes sharp to those around her, constantly aware. She had changed much in this time and yet had stayed the same in many aspects. She had become harder was one she would have to say, physically that was, with her muscles having been worked on day and night after getting out of that Slam for a good six months to get them into even better condition than when she had gone in. She was also smarter. Her new runner had never met her personally save a few times in emergency situations, he didn't know how to personally contact her except an untraceable line that she kept on her at all times inserted inconspicuously into her ear, and she had done fourteen different background checks to make sure he was clean. Trey had taught her to be much more cautious in whom she chose. She had not, however, changed in the fact that she distanced herself constantly and created a self stifling solitude that would last for as long as she lived. Her misery was her own. She was too dangerous to be around other people. Her anger issues had gotten somewhat more pronounced lately as well, it only took small things to set her off when she was not on a mission. However, George still hated the thought of needless violence, and though she might give a person a harsh tongue lashing if they did nothing to threaten her personal safety or move in on her territory then she would let them keep their fingers and life.

She was more controlled now but what was bubbling under the surface was just as angry and powerful as ever. All that didn't matter now though as her target suddenly turned the corner and came into view. Tonight would be her time to strike. She had been watching after him for a good two months now, learning all of his mannerisms, what nights he had his estranged wife and child over, which evenings his disciples at dinner with him, and thank god he didn't have any body guards to speak of. He really was a simple man. This would be far too easy and she had a feeling that these would be one of the cases that would stick in her memory beyond the sea of hits she had taken on with her. Placing her coffee cup deeper into her grasp and appearing to take a deep gulp she watched as the dark skinned man of Middle Eastern decent from earth itself came shuffling into the crowd of people hustling down the street.

He looked frazzled… as he often did at this time of day when passing this café to get to his home and to his papers and research for his up and coming temple. His dark red and golden robes were askew as he rushed and pushed passed others within the throng, muttering apologizes, bowing to a few, and then continuing on his way. With deep brown, wild and frayed, hair and black eyes that had puffy bags beneath them it was no wonder that he looked so bedraggled. He was a very busy man. Being a religious figure head must take more work than it had always looked it to be. Did he know that someone wanted him dead? Did he know that his views were so threatening to so many other strong religious players that it was going to end up in his death at the hands of someone like George? What could he do if he did? There weren't many places to hide and he struck George as the kind of person that would think it cowardly to run from ones problems even if they were unsolvable.

It didn't matter if he knew or not, he was going to perish tonight and she would get her money. Then she'd move onto the next bounty. Life as a hired killer was so glamorous sometimes.

George stared at her table as the man rushed by her, running by the café with little care as of who or what could be sitting there watching him. She stared at him out of the corner of her eye, careful not to give away her station or purpose, and followed him until it would take eyes in the back of her head to continue. Setting the hot cup down, well lukewarm now, she stood and straightened out the dusty clothing she wore. The reassuring press of her daggers sheathes against her hip bones under the draping red was all she needed to know that she was ready, a gun strapped onto her thigh and an emergency comm set up in case anything went awry. Giving one final look down the streets of Helion five she turned and set off down an opposite dirt path than the one he had gone. Time to make her living.

XXXXXXXXXXXXX

Helion Five's night was as dark as its day was bright. The power stations no longer working over time to receive the imported beams of solar power it was reduced to pure darkness besides the street lamps that were scattered along the dirt and cobbled stone roads providing spotty illumination. It was dangerous on the streets at this time of day, even for a holy planet such as this. Crime existed wherever humans did; they were selfish creatures, thinking only of themselves and of their needs. Vicious animals that did not think twice about ordering someone's death… humans were such idiots. Rapes took place here after dark, just like any other system, muggings, burglaries, murders, all violent crimes and all causing harm to another living sentient being. Religion was hypocrisy in its purist form.

George leaned up against the wall next to a French door, the glass shimmering in the star light that pierced through the inkiness around her. Her dark eyes narrowed down into the streets below, having made sure to knock out the one street lamp in the entire block that lead up to her targets house, waiting patiently for his only visitor to leave him for the night. Today was the day that his most trusted disciple would bring him the numbers of converts and would update him on the movements of the church, almost like a military campaign. Her mouth quirked into a bitter frown at the thought of just who had hired her… that very same disciple. Why was it the most trusted were the first to fall into betrayal of those they were supposed to love and care about like family? It was obscene. Shifting against the sharp edges of the poor quality terra cotta exterior she slid over to the knob of the glass door, glancing over her shoulder once to make sure that the room behind her was still dark and that the hallway that its door was opened to was uninhabited.

Crickets sounded in her ears from all over, mixing with the summer cicadas that had traveled to this planet from a merchant ship from Earth. The noise was almost deafening, add to that the croaking of damnable frogs in nearby manmade ponds and the murmur of others within their homes and it was proving somewhat difficult to block out all other noises and to focus on the goings on within the house beneath her. The only light that existed within the near deserted home was that of a few candles within the living room on the first floor where Ishid and her employer were going through the finer points of the newest temple in this part of town, picking out tiles, prayer tables, and what the alter should contain on it. The signal came with the door to the front sliding open and the voice of both her target and hiring scumbag still chatting amiably. Goodbyes were uttered and the door once more was shut down and locked up tightly, but she was already within the home and shutting the door in time with his, locking it back behind her. She didn't' need to see him to know that the traitorous disciple, really a Christian convert, running from the home, not wanting to be put to this murder.

Moving across the room the convicted killer side stepped a small, close to the ground bed, around a large stretching green leafed plant, all the way to the ajar portal that lead to the hallway before. She paused, leaning against the wall and closing her gaze off to her eyelids, allowing the sighing and shifting of the house as well as its inhabitant to invade her senses. He was still down stairs, going through his usual routine of putting out the candles before he would get his prayer beads, holy book, and head up to bed where he would complete his day of holy worship before slipping under his sheets and into the dream world. One thing could be said for the pious it was that they were predictable, and that meant that they were easy to take down.

Assessing it was safe George slipped out into the hallway, her jacket just barely scrapping against the door jam in the process. The corridor was narrow and cramped, meaning that should hand to hand ensue she would be at a minor advantage since she was smaller than the male's bulky form but at the same time it would be easy for him to overpower her. She had to remember to make this take place in an open area, to make sure that this coming struggle would not fall into this passageway, or it would complicate things far too much for her tastes. Walking quietly down the polished wood, making only the barest of creaks upon the worn surface, she made her way deftly to the final door that was, also, left open upon her own credence, having broken in earlier when he had gone out to speak with an ailing woman about her final fortune going to his cause. He was sweet, he had urged her to give it to her children, but she was refusing, and he had no choice but to accept. She wondered briefly if this would all fall apart without him or if one of his close pupils would find it within himself to carry on.

Ishid's bedroom was just as deserted as the rest of the house, quiet and lit by nothing but starlight, which meant heavy shadows and very little streams of brightness. This was too easy… George's ears twitched as she heard her target right on time ushering himself up the stairs, arms laden with book and beds and flaming candle and preparing to bed. Sliding back, keeping her eyes on the door, she immersed herself within the blackness of a corner, where the candles limited light would not hit.

Within seconds of her taking cover the kindly man entered into the room, sheltering his light from the winds of the air conditioning that ran throughout his home. George flattened herself against the wall, pushing her coat back to where her hands felt upon her daggers cold metal hilts, thumbing the edges with reassurance. Setting down his book down upon the bed stand table inside the sparsely decorated room of only a bed, a plant, and the night stand, before setting down the glowing candle and letting out a frustrated noise. George held her breath for a few moments, muscles tensing and her entire body going rigid and perfectly still, watching, waiting for the right moment. Situations such as this counted on the right timing or there would be hell to pay for it.

With a puff the candle was blown out and Ishid moved over to the closet to get ready for bed, looking haggard and tired. George felt heavy hearted as she moved from her corner and moved after him swiftly to where she was behind him within seconds, her daggers drawn and their metal whining from the sudden action. The victim blanched at the sudden noise and turned, his eyes wide upon seeing an intruder in his home while his hands flew up in defense. George raised one arm behind her, bringing the dagger down in a speedy stab while the other sliced across his abdominal, cutting clear through the wall and piercing into several of the organs in the area. Before he could even let out a scream the stab had hit his vocal cords and severed them, letting out little more than a gurgle while red seeped from every wound in copious amounts. Bubbles formed from Ishid trying to breath through the hole in his throat and the blood backing up into his mouth and dribbling down his chin in thick red streams.

His dark eyes beheld George one final time, standing back from him and staring, her daggers by her side but ready and a steely, hardened look to her dark orbs. All that he could see was the burning of those brown eyes, the flame of her rusty red hair, and the glimmer of the blood covered daggers in the steepness of the bleakness. George watched as his vision clouded over, undoubtedly starting to darken around the edges, and listened to the steady flow of red either drip from his chin onto the ground into a gathering puddle or seep down his leg and stomach to pool at his feet. It was over in seconds, for all of her months of planning, and soon the holy man's ones life filled eyes, so full and headed for a bright future, filmed over, rolled into his head. His body fell with a thud, hitting the wooden floor with a sickening slap in the now splashed red, and his last breath came out in a slow, long hiss.

The killer stood back from the pool and watched the gathering darkness, her mouth in a firm line. This kill was not as exciting as most others were. This one was leaving a sore taste in her mouth, something bitter, unworthy, this was one that she had found she had not enjoyed at all. The thrill wasn't there. The joy of the hunt had been absent. This was just a paycheck, this was not her usual entertainment. She only had to stay a few more seconds to make sure that he was truly dead and that came in the form of urine mixing into the blood and the stark smell of human lower bowl waste assailing and burning at her nostrils.

With a final look over the dead form she turned and exited just as quickly as she had come in, wiping her daggers upon the inside of her coat before sheathing them back into the hilts on her cargo's. She slinked off into the night with a sinking in her stomach, something forming in the pit of her stomach that proceeded to gnaw there annoyingly. Something was not… right. George had never felt this way after a kill, what was wrong here?

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"_Huh, a convict, eh? Wanted for three murders… she doesn't look like much, does she?" _

"_Nah, she really don't, but then again the captain said that this one is a crazy, that something isn't right with her. We should leave her alone." _

"_No way, it's protocol for everyone entering into this branch of the army, willingly or otherwise. The Wailing Wars isn't a place for little girls that can be broken easily," George sat in the very corner of her cell while the guards spoke in none too hushed voices. She ran her hands up and down her arms, chilled compared to the heat that had existed deep within the crust of her former Slam. Her eyes flittered from the ground up to the combat boots of the one closest to her and cursed herself for being caged up in all things as a dog cell. It assured that all she could was sit down, curled up, and that she couldn't fight back or injure anyone too badly from here. They had even taken her shanks. The bastards… They were talking about her like she wasn't even here, like she was some kind of piece of meat for them to decide if she was worth it or not. Her eyes narrowed at the thought that she had been taken from the Slam by guy such as this. _

_One of the guards, the original speaker, crouched down to her level though keeping a safe space between the cage bars and himself. He cocked his head to the side, watching as her brown eyes slid up from the ground of her rusted cell up to him, their brown hue blazing with ire and defiance while her face remained nothing but calm. He scoffed before waving his hand at her, looking at the other three guards that had accompanied him. "She's a woman. What could the boss be thinking?" there was contempt deep in his voice for the fact that she was female. That made George's anger boil more. _

"_Probably that since she's a felon that she's expendable. Send her into the enemy camp, kill as many possible with the rest of 'em that we picked up, and when they're all dead we rush the remaining suckers and take the base. Thundercraker's, not a job I would want," one of the others murmured while kicking her cage and causing it to jostle violently. George didn't so much as look at him but continued to stare at the man that had dared to get onto her level. _

"_Doesn't matter if she wants it or not, she's gonna take it. Besides, a murderer like her should be happy for the chance to kill without consequence, right hun?" the one crouching asked. He turned back to the red head with a sneer on his lips, his face unshaven and covered in the grease that came from not bathing regularly. _

_George studied him a moment stoically, not saying anything. Weak of mind, big talkers usually were, and with an old injury to his left shin, could be used for later. What to say, what to do, to throw him off of his game…? She rolled her head to the side slowly, a flicker of a smirk forming on her lips while depraved thoughts ran through her mind. The Slam had not been kind. She had been altered there, a mere nineteen, newly separated from her brother, and it had changed her for the worst. Sure, she had survived. But now where her heart had been she couldn't feel it, all that was there was a cold hollow sensation. And she liked it… Some had called her crazy in there, that hell hole that was a constant sweltering hundred degrees. Insane because she was so quiet, so demented, human life didn't mean anything, and when someone dared to try to touch her, to hurt her, they usually ended up with their eyes gouged out and their stomachs ripped open… Stomach, her favorite spot. _

_There we are, she thought with a sickening sneer. The guards were watching her with slightly unnerved looks and she realized that she had been laughing coldly at them the entire time she had been thinking. Good, let them think she was insane, let them underestimate her, it would come back to haunt them… each and every one of these men were going to get a knife in the back or a bullet in the brain. Time, patients… time would bring them their deaths soon enough. Though in the mean time: _

"_The stomach, so many vital organs there you know. So weak, so powerless. If you go after a certain area, just above the bellybutton, where the muscle is thinnest and joined with all of the others, then you can slice it open easily. Upwards is my favorite, cut deep enough and not only does the person bleed to death but their guts come spilling out and red flies everywhere. Have you ever tasted blood before? Not pleasant, but not bad, it's an acquired taste really, very metallic. You'd like it," she directed her gaze, half lidded with a disturbing sneer pulling her mouth until her nostrils flared and her eyes narrowed from the force, towards one of the standing guards. He was a sadist, she could tell just by looking at him, only issue was… he didn't know. She had seen his captivation at her being in a cage, bruised from her time in that Slam, a healing scab on her forehead, and her body filthy from lack of a good shower. The War would be good to him, he would enjoy himself, and he would die. Soon, so soon. She barked a laugh then, seeing each of their faces having gone ashen at her speech before she settled back into her corner and licked her lips darkly. "Want to know what the human liver looks like still living out of the body, freshly spilled and making a slick thunk noise? Its red, dark red, rust, like its poison itself, and shaped so strangely with crags and scars from years of abuse…" _

"_Enough! This psycho bitch is trying to scare us," the sadist to be bellowed and kicked her cage hard, causing it once again to tilt threateningly. George grunted when it slammed back down onto the haul of the ship she was captive in, but the second she was stable again a big, booming laugh ripped from her lips, filling the large space and hitting against the walls. All three were now standing and staring at her as if she was the scum of the universe, fear unadulterated flickering in their eyes. _

_George calmed herself down before lowering her head but her eyes still were locked with the one that had crouched. She clicked her teeth momentarily, settling back against her corner while rolling her shoulders. "Losing control like that, a bad sign for a soldier. How many people have you killed just for the sight of blood? So you could get your rocks off? And you fuckers call me psycho? Strange, they called me horrible names when I did it, but under a contract and war they call you hero's… how the universe is partial I suppose," she murmured before once again returning to staring at the floor, shutting her mouth and refusing to say another word. _

_The guards shifted, glancing at one another in nervousness. She really was insane. She could hear their thoughts, wondering if it would be better just to kill her now than to chance her getting out, slaughtering them, and then driving their ship off into freedom. Luckily for them she had yet to find a way out of this cage and as they walked off, their boots hitting against the floor loudly, she ran her tongue over her incisors slowly, eyeing their feet anxiously. Her mind began to whirl, putting the aspects of her escape into slots and ticking by the possible scenario. The only issue was… the military had to have a trump card on her to dare to take her out of the Slam. A wild thing like her couldn't be controlled unless they had a chain that she actually would allow on, so then what could they possibly have on her…? _

_At least she was out of that Slam. Now the question was what did they want with her in the Wailing Wars? A thundercraker… _


	16. Chapter 16 Georgina Collins

**Chapter sixteen: **

**Georgina Collins**

**Also known as Georgie girl all by herself and brooding horribly about a life that she'll never get back, Hahaha. Oops, did I say that outloud. Again, sorry this is late, but if its any consulation, I have a job and a new HOT boyfriend. :D**

Interspatial travel had its advantages when one really thought about it. If you didn't have to go so far then you did not have to go under cryo, if it was merely a few weeks and nothing more then you could by all means stay awake and just wait out your destination. Cryo was too deep, too consuming, it ate you alive and kept you under until it saw fit to redeem your consciousness. It was heavy and icy, dulling the senses to nothingness when in flying in areas infested with mercs you needed all of your senses about you. So instead planet jumps, such as this, could just be taken as floating in space with your boosters on high and sitting and staring out into nothingness. Though that left a lot of time to pass by. A lot of time to just sit, and watch, and think… thinking could be dangerous.

Boredom was once again showing its unkind head towards Georgina. She ran her fingers over the controlling handles, the ones that handled the thrust of the drives and the turns of the rudders. She felt the grooves where the finger grips were indented and marveled at the softness of the leather used for the grips. Flexing her hands idly against them she turned her gaze down to watch the schematics and system charts, making sure everything was as it had been five seconds ago; green light in all areas, fuel good, and life supports at maximum capacity. The stiffness of the chair she sat in was the only thing that was causing her any kind of discomfort, though this aching in her back was something she had come used to. Piloting was second nature after all. When she was behind the wheel of a vessel such as this, a nice runner with a sleek body, nice head, and six pulsing booster engines under the four wings of the ship, then she was calm. Her mind slipped into another mode. A mode far more relaxed and ready to handle anything than when she was say on a job or just laying in her bed. Pressing a few buttons here and there to run a scan on the haul integrity just for the hell of it George found nothing suspicious and pursed her lips.

She was stalling. She knew that. But she would damn well waste time running check after check if it kept her mind off of the sudden resurgence of memories of a forgotten woman. George was no longer Georgina, no longer the artist of Artemis Prime, and no longer the older sibling of Noah Collins. She had died in that slam, on that desolate planet conquered by Necromongers… she had been shed off in pieces steadily since the nights she had first heard of their coming approach. She had foreseen it happening, the death and dying, had tried to prepare herself as best she could. She had failed.

George winced at the flashes of those nights, swatting at the air before her eyes in a vain attempt to make them stop. Of plasma shots, earth rupturing up in waves of spotted brown and thrown into the air mercilessly, of people fleeing for their lives while their backs were burst open and blood was strewn into the winds of Artemis, painting the night sky crimson with its continual flood. Then the helmets… those gothic, lined, horrible helmets and masks had haunted her dreams for longer than she could remember. Somber, grim, dealers of death and carnage, unflinching to those they slaughtered. Her fathers face as his entire body was cleaved in half from a dark matter rifle, his life force spilling around the hatch of the door and falling onto Georgina while she screamed and stared in absolute horror.

_This solves nothing!_ she thought with a bitter growl at herself. She had learned long ago that brooding on the past did nothing but bring it up more. It was best to just pretend it never happened, to be someone else entirely. That way, you weren't asking for pain.

Not like she was now.

George had been weak and feeble then. Merely running when she could have been fighting. The current woman she was could more than handle a few necromongers, take them out, save her family, and get the fuck off the planet before it died completely. Her father would still be alive and Noah would still be with them. Or would they? George sunk her head slightly, biting her lower lip in thought. Would they have approved of the new her? Or would they have hated it? Noah had said his piece about it all, about her killing to live, and he was so much like their mother…

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_Laughter lifted from her chest as she ran down the street, her feet stirring up the pack dirt that made up the side roads of their home town. Her arms pumped effortlessly by her side, her brown eyes lighting up in joy as she glanced back, a large smile pulling at the sides of her aching lips, to stare at the dashing form of her little brother. The sun was shinning in through clear, crystal blue skies while the twin moons hung ever near the horizon, waiting to rise in the coming night. Spring was crisp and cool, bringing with it the greenery and the flowers that dominated the grassy and forested plains of the island they lived upon. Ducking around a corner and flattening herself against a wall, Georgina stood with baited breath. _

_Sure enough, her brother came darting around the same corner, none but a few strides behind her. The fifteen year old towered over her younger brother before sweeping him up in a nearly crushing hug, swinging him from side to side and attacking his neck with growling mocking noises that she knew he hated. He kicked and yelped to get put down but mirthful giggles were making his chest hiccup in her embrace. It was perfect, it was life as it had always been and always would be. There was nothing that could change this! She wouldn't let that happen. _

"_Sis! Put me down!" Noah cried out while laughing hysterically, tears forming at the edges of his amber eyes. _

_Finally the older of the two siblings relented and let him down gracelessly, plopping him onto the dirt while putting her hands on her small hips. Garbed in the traditional light blue robes of her people she cocked her head to the side and let her freed and wild rusty red curls shift around her face in a calming breeze. The grin never left her face as her brother swore and glared at her from the ground, patting himself over from the flying dust and sullying his sapphire tunic and light brown shorts. She shrugged while chuckling: _

"_You said to put you down, you never specified how gently if at all with carefulness…" _

"_You're mean!" Noah said with a pout as he stood, though humor was thick in his young voice. George made a flapping motion with her hand, rolling her eyes jovially, and turned to glance down the alleyway they had ducked into. They were merely ten minutes from home, perfect walking distance for her tastes, but knowing her brother he would ask for a either a piggy back ride halfway through because he was 'tired', more like lazy, or ask for them to take a cycling carriage. Her back could handle the strain her purse could not. _

"_Not so mean as to make you walk all the way home. Keep acting how you are though and I will have to rethink my kindness, Noah," Georgina commented and wrinkled her nose at him, a sardonic smirk on her features. Her brother stared at her like she was the antichrist before nodding and making his way over the street and through the alleyway that was lit with bright sun rays. _

_The second to main island on Artemis was the artistic capital of the system and it showed painfully. God was in the details they said, and if this were the case then the obsessive compulsive perfectionists that lived in this town had created god on earth. Buildings rose up into the sky modestly, not daring to scrape the sky with their humble fingers and allowing the sky to the gods of their religion. The walls were a sun bleached white wash, glimmering with accumulated sea salt on their surface while in their surfaces were carved frescos of ancient battles, deities, and art of all kinds of caliber. Paintings were scattered here and there, murals made with oil paints that were as detailed as they were random, but yet all of these elements formed a cohesive vision that was the throbbing metropolis. Government buildings had large pillars that rose up the highest and were capped off with domes of glittering gold and sapphire tiles, where democracy ran high in the senate. Georgina had once been told that their planets looks and thought pattern had been much related to that of the Greeks and Romans of the home land of Earth and that hadn't surprised her. _

_Georgina crossed her arms under her chest, the gold bands on her arms glittering faintly in the resilient single sun. She made her way down the alleyway after her brother, nodding to those that they knew as they passed who had come out of the backs of their homes to see the commotion. As she meandered a sudden thrill ran up her back and made her slow her pace, watching her siblings back warily. The air was thick with of all things anxiety, a powerful sensation that was making her chest clench and the world seem to spin on its axis in a disturbing way. Whispering was abound, even as they passed the others of her town, and though she did not strain to hear the conversations a few words were standing out through the ever present murmur of the city. War, death, destruction, and run… _

_War? War had yet to visit their system in over two hundred years. The peace treaty signed with Artemis minor and the other four planets of the solar were iron clad and every planet was in agreement that fighting amongst themselves was useless and only wasted precious resources. There was no way that battle was on their door step. And yet… why did her heart flutter at the mere thought that she might be wrong? _

"_Dad!" Georgina realized that during her thought process that they had come into the market of their district. Clearing the alleyway she nearly stumbled when she recognized the large, open road filled with huts and stands with vendors yelling their wares and haggling with their customers over the prices. Fruits of all colors scattered her sight, blending in with the bright colors of her peoples robes and dress starkly. Spices, strong and pungent, lifted into the air and seemed to hang in a visible red haze around her, attacking her nose and making her mouth water at the mere thought of food cooked with such seasoning. Laughter, buzzing chatter, and the sound of a sea of feet were all that greeted her ears as she stopped and stared after her brother, eyebrows knitting in concentration. Was she merely hearing things…? _

_Noah ran down the street with reckless abandon, throwing his arms open childishly and giggling up a storm. Brown eyes lifted from watching the others to the figure of her father, smiling broadly and kneeling down to sweep his son up into his steadily weakening once powerful form. Engulfing Noah in his embrace, his brown hair falling over one stark amber eye, Georgina took in the scene with a numbed feeling going throughout her body with burning fingers. Watching her fathers beaming face as he picked up her brother and swung him around, holding him under with one arm and a thick briefcase in the other they looked the world like the happy family they were. But now… _

"_Did you hear? They say their coming here next…" Georgina froze in spot just as she was about to walk over to her family and rejoin the safety of their ranks. Her eyes narrowed and she shot a quick look over to where the conversation was coming from. Straining her hearing she listened intently to what was being uttered just yards away by two very scared looking middle aged women. _

_The other nodded, clutching at her chest, looking horribly ashen white and grey. "Yes. I pray it is not true! What would they want here? We have nothing to offer them…" _

"_To think that they would come here, to such a peaceful system," the first one whispered with a despairing look on her face. She bit the side of her thumb in thought and George's interest was piqued then and there if it had not been before hand. Realizing she had not been just hearing things she slid closer. _

_The second ran a hand through her loosed, bright blond hair, swearing in her peoples native language under her breath. "Aye, I never thought that I would see war in my lifetime. They say they come with a comet first, that their ships are hidden within its tails, and when they land they kill all around them and leaving nothing behind! We're doomed…" _

"_Don't say that! We have an excellent reserve military! We can more than defend ourselves," the first stated with an indignant look to her slightly wrinkled face. _

_The second scoffed and put her hands on her hips, regarding the other with a scathing glare. "Against the Necromongers we stand no chance! They've already taken fourteen systems, what is Artemis Prime and its planets to them?" _

_Georgina's eyes widened and a small gasp lifted from her chest. Necromongers? Here? She… she had always been told they were a mere myth, not to worry, that there was no cause for them to come here. They posed no threat to the Necromongers, they were a peaceful people who didn't believe in violence to solve their problems, and yet, if what they were saying was true… then her home system was destined for ashes and fire of one sided war. She glanced out of the corner of her eye towards her father who was trying vainly to fix her brothers unruly blond hair, shaking his head in displeasure of the constant wilderness associated with it. But now, over that happy picture, was a dark shade of uncertainty that was beginning to engulf the whole planet. _

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

_Bullets rained from the sky in streams of whizzing molten metal, plummeting to the ground and into the dirt that was drenched red with the dying and dead scattered. Flood lights fell onto the battle fields from the ships doing war in the skies, flying full speed at one another and opening their plasma and antimatter ports, readying for full scale assault. Motor skiffs zipped around the field, their riders holding onto them for either dear life or skilled reassurance, while brandishing weapons to take down the enemy combatants. It was the front lines, where bodies were burning on the ground beneath, heaps of metal and twisted lives lost abandoned and forgotten, to be reported missing in action at a later time. All that mattered was the smoke in the air, the blood burning at ones nostrils, the ringing in your ears from the engine behind you as you turned on the skiff, holding onto the hand rails while doing barrel rolls to lose your chasers. All that mattered was victory. _

_One Motor pulled out of a steep roll just before they would have hit the littered ground, above the smoldering wreckage of a fellow from their side. Those that had been following pulled up as well, still firing at full blast with their automatics, having difficulty keeping the zipping little thing in their sights. Turning on their skiff until they steered with a painfully twisted hand and wrist the followed held up a plasma gun, full charged and emitting sparks of anticipatory energy. Pulling the small trigger the blast ripped from the barrel like a demon, shooting out in a beam of blue and green light, hurtling towards those it would take down should they not move. Pursers scattered, most in time, one unfortunate soul not in time enough to have his machine ripped apart from the connecting blast, metal and bolts flying from the carnage while yet more burning flesh filled the hazy air. _

_Sitting back down onto the skiff fully and lowering her body down the one that had fired revved up her machine and made it shoot straight up into the air, into the dog fighting and ship battle above. Air whipped at the tightly tied back shoulder length rusted red hair while brown eyes scanned the blasts above for a hole. Bullets and bolts of energy shot by her as George guided the Skiff through sharp turns and dips in the process of hiking higher and higher, her jaw clenched firmly. Goggles protected her eyes, deepest within the hard dark brown helmet and body armor that shielded her form from grazing attacks, and gloves covering her hands all she had to worry about was the bullets that could hit her right in the armors weak spots. _

_Higher and higher until they were up in the atmosphere along with the other, much larger vessels she listened to the whine of the others engines and that of her own. George turned her vessel with a deft motion, pulling it sharply and listening to it complain at the sharpness. She switched a button on the main consol before her and listened with a kind of demented joy as the blades connected to her Motor shot out from the smoothed sides. _

"_Here we go," she whispered to herself and shot down from the sky at a free fall, controlled by the rudders on the back of her small, one person ship. The others reacted too slowly, glancing up at her through air masks and heavy armor, trying desperately to turn their machines before it happened. But it did. Her blades, heated with the inner coil from the main thruster engine, sliced through their Motor's like butter, slicing through the metal with a grating, high pitched screaming noise. Halfway through the fall through the others, cutting off legs and limbs in the process while keeping her air mask firmly locked in place, fire erupted from the dying vessels. Two explosions on either side of the Thundercraker caused her arms to scream in pain as they were jostled around, still keeping their iron hold on the steering, and her first three layers of armor were singed or burned off horribly. _

_White spots filled her vision even from within her goggles and her head began to go light. She could feel the blood, droplet after agonizing droplet, fly off of her arms as she plummeted past the now falling debris. Scrap metal was buried deep into her forearms, the blast having torn off all protective measures hopelessly, and she still continued downward, trying to right her mind from the barely there fuzz it was in. The ground was coming up fast, too fast, and while she panted and shook her head furiously to get it to think again, her vision starting to blur from the pain and rapid blood loss, she heard her radars and scanners on her machine start to go off in warning. _

_Finally, she managed to scrounge up the strength it took to bring her ship righted, using her bottom thrusters and pulling the machine from the head dive by using the sharp blades as make shift wings, it pulled out just as she was a few feet from the ground. Grass and fallen parts scattered in the skiffs under draft, harsh and hot as it was, and George shot off towards the mother ship of her battalion. A quick look around the field was all it took to tell her just who had made it out of the Thundercraker division of this squad of the Alliance. Four, besides herself, were remaining… guess they weren't kidding when they said that the life span of someone in her line of _work_ was not long at all. With the main battle under way her job was done. _

George tore the sheets from her body, gasping loudly while sitting up in a bolt, her eyes wide. Sweat streamed down her form, sticking to it with slick, grotesque, unrelenting fingers that caused her clothing to cling to her like a second skin. She sat there, staring at the opposite wall, while her chest heaved and her mind raced with memory after fucking memory. She brought a shaking, unsure, verging on terrified hand to brush her loosed mane from her face, growling when it slid through her eye and mouth.

The darkness of her ship around her was impregnable, having found that the blackness of space and the nonexistence of light helped her sleep when she was troubled. She stared out with slowly steadying breath, the sweat on her skin once hot and uncomfortable become chill and clammy, her head swimming from the rushing sensation. Her stare became harsh, her mouth into a firm line. It had been a long time since she had thought about the Wailing Wars… what the hell had set that shit off? She hadn't thought about her service in years. And why the hell had it played that one scene, the most mild of any of the stints she had done in her short lived career as a thundercraker in the fading years of the Wars? It didn't make sense.

Could it be regret? That was always a possibility in instances such as this. However, there was little to regret on her part. She had done what she had to survive at that time, she had been sentenced to death row and would have been put to an injection within days of them pulling her out of that Slam. She was alive thanks to the Wailing Wars. So what if she had killed a few people, had witnessed others die, had tortured to get information for her captors, and had done horrible things just to keep living. She winced unintentionally at the thought of working for the Alliance, since, after all, it was their fault that she was wanted as much as she was. Wrinkling her nose George ran a hand down her face and tried to suppress the nausea that was burning at the pit of her stomach and churning the acids living within.

This would get her no where but another migraine, yet another one in the space of three days, and that was the last thing she needed. Kicking off her sheets and realizing with the alertness of her mind and form that there would be no more slumber in her future for another day if not two she stood with a stiff roll of her shoulders. Sweeping her hair from her neck with an irate hand she padded from her room in little more than her cargo's and a black sports bra, stretching out her marked body of what sluggishness had been placed there with the small amount of nights sleep. Making her way from the small bunking room towards the main haul where guns hung off of racks and different weapons glittered threateningly against the dark green of the darkness around her. Putting a hand on the wall she muttered a quick, 'lights on', before proceeding down the length of the haul and towards the head and the galley that hung just off to its right.

Ships were equipped with more amazing things than George could even dream of. Sometimes, when she was exceptionally bored, she would often wonder just how space travel was possible with straight provisions rather than the generating artificial technology that existed now. It must have taken up so much room in the holds… not to mention how quickly it would go bad if you weren't careful at what degree you kept it frozen at or de-thawed it at. Then there was the fact that they could travel millions upon billions of miles and arrive not a day older thanks to cryo… it was insane. Mankind was truly the most inventive creature that she had run across. To come up with such things merely to ensure its survival was astounding. George didn't even know how half of this shit worked, just knew how to work it, and how to fly it. Her knowledge by no means stretched on beyond that.

Rubbing her left arm in absentminded memory, the tiny scars crisscrossing it a sore reminder of just that scene, and pursed her lips in thought. She had forgotten how much getting those had hurt… her career as a thundercraker, had she been any closer to either of those ships, could have been over with in that instant. The joys of ignorant youth. She knew better now. She had been trying to be a hero, unheeding of her own life and only caring about taking those that had pursued her so wholeheartedly. She wouldn't make that mistake again; selfishness was the best kind of self preservation there was. When one was selfish, thinking only of oneself, then you saw things more clearly than others did and how it would effect you dramatically or barely. Each action was governed by only one thing, where would this take me? Planning and calculating was key. At the ripe old age of twenty eight she had her priorities where they should be for someone in her position; herself.

_George surged against her restraints upon the operating table, her eyes squeezing tightly shut. The searing pain that was going through her arms and down her spine from the dive incident was nothing compared to this, to the actual removal of the shrapnel and stitching. Her eyes were burning from under the continued pressure of squeezing them shut, threatening to leak out angry, burning tears down her already bruised and dirty face. She ground her teeth sharply against the horse bit in her mouth, making them cry out against the harsh metal that was placed securely there so she wouldn't scream too loudly or try to injure the doctor next to her. _

_Doctor, more like butcher! She opened her eyes when the tweezers, hot with cauterizing coils around its tip, emerged with yet another shard of twisted metal from deep within her arm. The stench of her own burnt flesh invaded and burned at her already abused nose, making her cringe. She tried to move her arms and legs but they were strapped down tight, until finally she sank back down against the table and panted hard. Sweat streamed down her neck and face, she felt it pooling under her down her spine, and she wondered if it was safe that she was perspiring this much during a procedure. A procedure that by all means she should have been knocked under for. Her brown eyes, seething and rippling with hatred and loathing, swung on the demon that was clad in light blue scrubs and holding the wired tweezers, regarding her arms like they were something uncouth. So what if she was a damn thundercraker, she still had feelings, there was no reason to do this without anesthesia! _

"_You did a real number on your arms young woman," she winced when he spoke to her. When their gazes locked she did not hide the want to kill from their brown hue, her nose wrinkling and a snarl forming pathetically on her drooling mouth. With the inability to focus on anything but the throbbing and piercing torture that was going through her arms her body wasn't even paying attention to the simple act of swallowing her own saliva, how wonderful… _

"_Hrueck guew," she growled against the metal that was strapped into her mouth. _

_He merely shook his head from under that damnable cap, mask, and shinning glasses, before kneeling down to her wounds. His fingers dug into the skin, moving it aside gruffly from one deep one that she could feel against the bone. The sizzle of the tweezers informed her, with a grunt and her back arching despite herself, that he was starting again. Once more her eyes watered from the surge of pain going through her and her mind dimmed with the haze of shock once more. Why wasn't she passing out? This was hell! Her eyes shifted open, digging her teeth into the metal as much as possible without cracking them open, and stared fuzzily at the stark metal ceiling above her. _

_She knew why she wasn't passing out. Her mind wasn't letting her body drift off. The man next to her was afraid of her, that was the only thing keeping him from doing the things he did to the other female inmates to George, but she couldn't chance passing out. If she did then he would have free reign, he would be able to do whatever he wanted without her burning stare and bloodlust shifting every present. She may have been chained up but she was far from tamed and broken… _

"_Got it!" George nearly cried out when the shard that was pressed intimately against one of her arm bones moved and scrapped at the surface, cutting more of the tissue around it, while the burn of those fucking instruments was sealing the blood off from the surface. She shut her eyes tightly, refusing to open them this time, as she pictured the Slam she had come from and telling herself this was a thousand times better. Here she was alive and had an actual chance rather than having a needle stuck into her arm and put to death in some frozen waste land where the massive wolves of the Furya system would rip her to shreds. _

_It had been four hours since the operation to remove all of the metal and debris from her arms and even still she could feel them in there, a reminder of just what had happened mere moments ago. George, as the other Thundercraker's from her decent, was being holed up within her cell in the brig of the ship, and staring out of the bars sourly. Her arms were bounded up in thick, already blood stained, gauze that ran from the very starts of her shoulders down to spin around her fingers, making her look comical in all aspects. Her power of intimidation were greatly reduced when looking like she was turning into a fucking mummy. Rubbing her arms through the course, lower grade military material she winced when she passed over the holes that riddled her forearms the worst. She was lucky to have gotten away with her life. _

_Her back hunched over and she took in a deep, resounding, measured breath to catch her body back up to speed. It had taken two hours to make her body come out of the throws of icy cold shock and now she was struggling to get her fingers to move without a twinge of pain that rained down to her very toes. Glancing at the damage she scowled deeply, it would be just her luck if it was decided that she was useless now and needed to be put out of her misery. _

_It had been part of the deal when she had been brought to this ships commander, and this fleet for that matter. She would work for them, as a kind of bait and warrior demon to scare and kill the enemy as much as possible until the main fleet came in, and they would let her live. That is, if she didn't die on the battle field from a bullet, laser, plasma shot, or any other variety of deaths. So far she had lasted long enough to be twenty and nearly about to turn twenty one within the month. Never had she thought this would be her life, to fight against the fragmented Alliance, an insurgence of lower ranking planets and systems that had been seething and waiting for their time to strike for centuries. Her life as an Artemisian was over, now she was just a giant shit faced hypocrite. _

_Better a hypocrite then dead… a small voice jeered in her ear. _

_George narrowed her eyes bitterly but agreed nonetheless. At this point she was all about survival, her every thought, every breath, was about living to the next day, for as long as she possibly could. Nothing would get in her way. _

"_Where'd they get you from again, Red?" George turned stiffly, trying not to bump her arms into anything. She focused her stare out of her laser bars and into the cell across from her where the form of an emaciated seventeen year old boy stood with his head cocked to the side. His name was William, but she called him Bob, Mason. He was around five foot nine with short cropped messy brown hair, dark grey eyes that when sparked with anger looked like they could cut through anything, and skin that was so freckled that she often liked to say he looked like he had a tan with them instead of being as obscenely pale as he was. _

_William had been the first to talk to her when she had been brought to the ship and forced to go through the hazing of joining the Thundercraker squad of the fleet. When she had been standing naked in her cell with her arms tied up to the corners and a continuous trail of freezing cold water trickling over her head, back, and body, he had been the one to assure her when it was almost over or not. She owed Bob a lot in regards to still being here. She turned fully and tried to cross her arms under her chest only to wince and glare at her weakened exterminates. If it was one thing that Bob liked to hear about it was her stint in a Slam, considering that he had only spent a few days in his single max before being 'rescued' by the fragmented Alliance. Which was good since Georgina didn't think he had it in him to stay longer than that by any means, he was too… isolated in his own little world to even survive in another as harsh as the prisons. _

_Considering the poor boy for a few seconds the red head finally responded, "Furya Lunar Correctional Triple Max Center," she recited with a slight snarl on her lips, hating to remember that place. If it was possible then she would like to believe that she had been placed in such a place with criminals farther gone than she was so that she would become what she was now. Everything happened for a reason… even if it was something horrible. _

_Bob's eyes widened and a look of awe, that same awe, came across his face as he regarded the convict. No matter how many times she told him she'd seen the inside of a Triple and lived to tell the tale it still shocked him and caused an odd sense of respect to come over him. How the boy was a Thundercraker at first had been beyond her. Then she had learned that he was intelligent, extremely intelligent, to the point where it made her own head hurt just when he started on a rant about something. Too bad the boy had no common sense. Probably how he ended up accidentally killing his assistant in one lab experiment gone awry and how he had ended up in a Slam in the first place. _

"_How was it? I've heard Triple's are holes in the ground, hot, barely any food, that you have to fight for water…" he began but finished staring off into space as he pulled up all of the information on the stories he had heard within his head. _

_George raised her eyebrows at him when he yet again zoned out. She wondered if he had a case of untreated Autism but didn't feel like asking and having awkwardness between her and the one person she respected enough to talk to. Bob was the only smart conversationalist in this entire place besides the captain and he was a dick. Leaning against a cold metal wall she pursed her lips before saying, "it was hell. That's all someone like you needs to know, Bob." _

_William stopped his mental reliving and glanced at her with a sad and pathetic pout. "Why do you keep calling me that? My name is William!" _

"_You seem like a Bob to me," she explained with a smirk spreading on her lips. They had this conversation just about every day and yet it never got old because soon he would huff at her and start storming around his cell and listing off the reasons that he should not be called Bob. Even in a place such as this there was a small ray of entertainment and a twisted friendship. Suddenly, something occurred to her, something that had never happened with anyone but Noah before, and her expression sobered quickly. "I'm gonna get you outta this mess, Bob. You and I are gonna be partners, I'm gonna protect you because someone like you shouldn't be in a situation such as this." _

_So what if some of her humanity was not as dead as she would prefer it to be? Bob stared at her with an awed look again, his eyes misting over at someone actually caring for the first time in a long time. Then he smiled brightly, like a five year old would, and nodded enthusiastically, making the harder of the two laugh out right. He reminded her so much of Noah… small, helpless, needing her protection. _

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"Report on status of target," George breathed into her hidden mic, keeping her head down and trying to be as inconspicuous as possible. Static greeted her on the other side of her ear piece, making her skin prickle in annoyance while her teeth ground together.

She glanced up at the crowd just beyond her small outcropping in the side of a building, her form shrouded mostly in shadows but should anyone look too hard it wasn't difficult to see her. The hustle and bustle of afternoon time made this kind of hit all the worse, it was the kind that she would have never accepted if it were not for one thing. Her brother's name had been located on the recent contacts that her hit had been calling in the last four months. Had been on that list several times, forming a patter, that had abruptly stopped just shy of three weeks ago, and this alone left George very curious as to what was going on. Not to mention the mere idea that her brother, the bastard, was somehow tied up in something worthy of a hit man having to clean up after him made her brain freeze up. She had accepted without thinking. She had said yes without wondering why the kill had to take place at three in the afternoon, where people could catch her, see her, and put her ass back into the Slam. And had accepted without seeing who it was that she was going after.

Now that she was clear of mind she was having very vicious second thoughts. She had rushed in, again, and had let her emotions control her. Something strange had stirred when her brothers name had shown on that list, something she did not know how to classify in her awkwardness with such emotive responses. It was dark, deep, it reached into her very soul and chilled it before searing it all the way to the edges, until her stomach churned and her eyes were dry and tongue swollen with ill want to talk. She could not form thoughts, she could not speak, she could not sleep that night, all that had consumed her was that mysterious yearning for something she did not know. It could not be that she was missing him. He had made sure that bridge was burned when he had ratted her out so heartlessly. Noah had earned her undying hatred and contempt.

The target was a drug runner, strictly small time narcotics with a few large shipments here and there that suggested possible ties to the local mafia. He had come into contact with the wrong Necro's when he had gone off world, namely Noah, and she was assuming his silence on the coming death of this planet was threatened by conversion. However, such scare tactics only worked when you stayed in almost continual contact with the victim. If you stopped for more than a day then they started to feel safe, then it wore off, then it failed; it was something you just did not do. You kept your target fearful, always. Noah had probably fucked up.

Taking up a flask from her back pocket she took a large swig of burning straight, pure, organic vodka. She winced when it burned violently down her throat, ripping at the muscle cording while at the same time filling her body with abrupt lubrication of clear mindedness. George wiped her mouth before placing it back, feeling how empty it was quickly becoming, and reminded herself not to drink anymore until she was done with this attack. She had to be completely lucid in order for this one to go down. According to his information he carried a piece, a highly illegal one, but one all the same.

"Target active. Transmission coming in loud and clear, Leader," a voice broke through her thoughts and finally the ear bud came to life. She glanced around then once more lowered her gaze to the floor, crossing her arms over her chest. She hated the Ichon system.

"ETA," she demanded in a hushed, simple tone.

"To your location in five, to the Black in ten, suggested course of action to take the back route along the market place, down the piers, then through the alleyway of the Seaside Pub, and wait for him in one of the doorways where it is darkest. Savvy?"

George felt a quirk of a sneer come to her lips. She really did like her new third party. It was missions like this that she even had someone else on her side, even if she did have to divide the winnings of her kills. A second pair of eyes could be invaluable and a second opinion priceless. She shifted to where she could feel her gun against her back and her favorite weapons upon her hips. Good, all accounted for… "Aye. Keep a close eye out for the guard, I don't want anyone sneaking up on me, got it?" she snapped firmly before pushing off the wall and staring off into the throng.

"Read you loud and clear. Satellite is in position for well passed your estimated time of completion, even with a little bit of wiggle room in case ya get shot."

George felt like snarling at him not to say something that stupid, that saying something like that ensured her getting hit by a bullet, that it was bad luck and could jinx the whole thing. However, given that she was in the midst of a large crowd doing so would draw undue attention that would spoil her mark and make her have to plan this out all over again. Biting her tongue she continued down, making a mental note to 'talk' with her carrier about this matter when she returned to see him.

It took only three minutes to get to the Kill Spot as she liked to call it. Pushing passed crowds while keeping her face down and trying not to be noticed was harder than she would ever like it to be, but she had made it through the throng and into the back alleyways where she ruled. Slinking into her hiding spot, leaning against a deep set door that was hidden with stark shadows draping from its corners, she took out her gun and set to placing the silencer upon it and wiping it down in advance for finger prints like she would do after. One could never be too careful in this profession. Not that it was possible to completely hide who killed someone; they were coming up with more and more crime fighting tech lately that was making it easier to find the murderer. Or rather, find out who it was. She had yet to be caught since leaving that Slam three years ago. Close calls, by all means, but had yet to see the inside of a prison yet again.

Waiting in the confines of the doorway wasn't new to Georgina Collins, but that didn't make it any less nerve wracking. Thoughts always flittered through her head in the moments before her prey came around its corner. What if they could see her? Should she just step out now? What will happen if someone sees the crime? What Slam would she be taken off to this time when she was caught? Who was this guy and why did he have such a high hit on his head? Just who had solicited this guys death? Frantic, uneven, and desperate thoughts would race in and out of her consciousness, making her second doubt her ability as an assassin. When she had committed her first hit it had unnerved her to no end, she had almost ended it then and there and gone home. But now, with many heads under her belt, she now knew how to control them to the point where she didn't go running away.

It had gone down without a hitch, this particular guy. He had come around the corner, stumbling as drug dealers often did, and had been counting up what had to be pick pocketed cash from the market. He had been loud, blaringly so, to where George could tell he was coming down the back road without so much as straining, and she had readied her gun and waited.

He had not been expecting a thing. She had stepped out with her gun pointed right at his head, coming in front of him to within an inch. The trigger pulled and the silencer keeping the blast of the powerful hand gun to a bare minimal pop his head fractured open at the forehead and he was slumping backwards with a gurgling noise. Red dripped from his mouth and the back of his defiled head and when George had put away her weapon, collecting whatever she needed to in order to prove her kill, she reflected upon this poor man. He was a grubby man with a bubals nose, sharp cheek bones that protruded oddly for his thin face, and deep set once hazel eyes. Why would someone so obviously low run and ranking be of such a threat? It made no sense.

"Target down, information on local area, did anyone hear?"

"Give me a second, satellites trying to push me out… odd since I used a maximum strength encryption key with fire wall penetrating spider bots."

George froze on the spot and her fingers flexed against her gun. Turning back and forth down the alleyway she strained her hearing while inwardly swearing up a storm. Letting out a frustrated shout she turned and started running down towards where there would be the most people, just as six mercs came barreling around the corner with their weapons drawn.

"Fuck that shit, Kid, Protocol Seven, abandon post. See you when I see you," she stated firmly into her ear piece as she rounded a corner, skidding up dust behind her, before bolting down the middle of the market through the pulsing crowd of murmuring people. The shouts of mercs behind made her heart hammer harder and a sudden, blinding rage filled her body. Who the hell would post a bounty on her head? Who the fuck would know that she would be here?? Slamming into one unsuspecting man she ditched her weapon on him before barreling passed and forcing her way towards a place where she would have better footing for a fight. Somewhere empty where there were plenty of places to hide…


	17. Chapter 17 If you can't say nice things

**Okay, I'm sorry this is late, but I mean seriously. I'm getting a very good amount of hits per chapter, about a hundred, and I am only getting, what, one review per chapter? At best? If you like my story please let me know. It helps me write. If I think people don't like it then I don't feel like writing in it. So I'm gonna start going to the old adage of no reviews no new post. Even if its just one. I'm tired of having a slew of chapters having NONE. **

**Chapter seventeen: **

**If you don't have something**

**nice to say**

Another day another solar cycle spent idle and bored out of ones skull. Isolation was a cruel mistress that sought to drive you insane, turn your thoughts to things that are better left alone and make you brood until you felt like your head was going to explode. She wrapped her fingers around you, dragging you further down with each murmur and whisper in your ear of your past, making you wince and squirm in discomfort. Especially if your past was something you were not proud of, at all, and something you did not like to dwell on too much. But when you were probably the only sentient being on a planet that saw only two hours of sun light a day and the rest spent in freezing darkness there was nothing else to do. Unless, that is, of course, if you wanted to go out and try your hand at surviving the darkness and the monsters it brought with it.

He chose most of the time to just stay in the ship and stare out at the darkness, goggles pushed up his head, and watching the large beasts outside of the ships Head windows. It was not that he was afraid of them, or could not take the easily four times his size monsters that wandered within the dankness of this hole in the universe… No, it was that after a while even someone like him got tired of fighting and bloodshed; after all, there was only so much venting you could do before there was nothing left to vent. Right? Until you got time to brood and think on your past, those who had died for you and against you, and then that little seething pit in his stomach and chest was overflowing again. If only he had not gotten close to people, if only he had not changed to a certain degree, then this would not be bothering him to this point.

However, as it stood, Riddick had spent the past three years traveling from uninhabited star system to system all to keep his mind rolling and those outside of his person safe. Strange that he would want to keep strangers, those he didn't even know, safe from the harm that followed him around like the plague. He had Fry to thank for that. Riddick blinked slowly before leaning back in the chair of his newest vessel. It was strange… when she had first died, when those bastard borne of hell on that damnable planet had carted her away by the middle of the stomach at the tip of a large barb, he had felt like his world was going to end. In those few moments he had felt like he had been ripped apart, bled out, sown back together, and then thrown into pits of wherever it was that people like him went when they died. She had forced him to see the errors of his train of thought. That people did have value and that even if it was only some brat of a kid that posed as a boy or some hoodoo holy man. She had forced him to reawaken some of his human side that the animal had long ago covered in seas of blood.

Whenever he had thought about her when he had first gotten off of that shadow planet something painful would clench his chest and twist there until it forced him to squirm uncomfortably. Never before had he experienced something quite like that, it had been a shock and for a while he was bemused as to what the fuck it was. Riddick had not been raised in a home conducive to human emotion, bounced around from foster home to foster home like some unwanted puppy, then falling into the wrong crowds and becoming a thug and thus resulting in being raised the rest of his adolescence in juvenile facilities, and then only to be upgraded to full on Slam's when he was in his mid twenties. After the wailing wars he had truly become what he was now… he had always been wild, untamed, and excellent at detaching himself, but that had served as a great weapon when he was out there killing others for the sake of a cause he didn't support. Then they'd turned on him; not his fault he killed quite a few of his unit mates. Fry though, Fry had made a side of him the worlds had beaten down come to the surface. He had started to doubt his methods, had started to wonder if what he did was the right thing and if he could possibly stop and settle.

Her death had proved he was wrong, that he wasn't allowed to have the goods of life, only the bads; though the floodgates she had cracked refused to be closed again. The pain, the nagging, had gotten steadily worse over those five years after he had separated from Imam and Jack. Every time he pictured her face he winced at the images of a life that could have been, no matter how dysfunctional it would have ended up being. It wasn't that he had wanted to marry the girl, have kids, and have a house with a dog and a white picket fence, not by a long shot. Riddick was not that kind of man, no matter how much he had 'changed'. It was merely that maybe he had found someone to help shoulder some of his shit life. It hadn't been love… at least he didn't think it was. No, it had not, he wasn't the type to allow something like that to happen and it had not felt like anything people said love was supposed to feel like.

It was a kind of lust mixed with a need to protect something much smaller than him. Obsession would be the proper term in his mind, he had seen only Fry during their time on that planet. Sure, there was Johns, and the kid, and all the others that had eventually died, but in his mind the only people that were had been him and Caroline. It was pathetic.

Now, her memory merely brought about something that felt akin to indigestion. It was eight years and some odd months in the past, it was over and done with, and there was no changing it. No use on brooding over it anymore than he already had.

The one death that still brought the sting of regret and bitterness was that of his Jack. Riddick shifted in his chair and grumbled at the surging in the pit of his stomach that thinking on her death still brought up; so much more powerful than when Fry had died. Kira had been like a pet at first, someone for him to look after but he had not been terribly attached, in face that little kid owed her life to the tenacity of the former copilot of the Hunter. Then, as they had traveled through space and he had spent more time getting to know the girl he had found protective instincts emerging. He had seen so much of himself in her, and at first it had been great to think that someone could understand him. Then it had caused fear, fear she would turn into him. She wormed her way into his heart and became the sister he never had, a little thing that needed his ominous shadow to keep her safe from the rest of the universe.

Riddick snarled and stood, rolling his shoulders. Flashes of her death ran through his head, of the blood, the small cocky smirk, and the reemergence of Jack… not Kira. It had turned out that she had needed protection from him, not by him. He had screwed her up so badly that she had ended up in a Slam and then dead on the Necropolis' floor, he had no right to defile someone such as Jack. Some would argue that there had always been the potential to become what she had, that she had been abused as a kid, dressed up as a boy to get away from her home life, and then had the trauma of getting off that planet and watching all that death with her own eyes, that it wasn't entirely his fault. Those people were fucking idiots.

Riddick had virtually killed Kira himself with his own hands.

Anger was swelling in his chest again and when the massive mountain of power decided that it was once again getting to the point of toxicity he grabbed his belt that held his shiv's, bent and wicked, before setting out to the ships outwards haul door. It had been a full day and a half since he had last vented, that was plenty of time to build up yet more issues that only fighting could alleviate.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

_Richard B. Riddick was a troubled youth. Anyone could see that, it was written on his face and in his body stance; always loose, always ready, always prepared for a fight. His foster families had seen this behavior, the cold shoulders, and the snapping like some kind of cornered wild animal that was refusing to be tamed, and had all given up on him within months of receiving him into their homes. He fought with other fosters, sometimes to the point of where the other boy would have to go to the hospital to staunch his nose or some other weeping bodily injury. He was a brute, pure and simple, a menace to society. That's what they all thought of him, and who was he to deny it? _

_The voices were growing louder with each day. They had started when he was seven, whispering incoherently in his sleep, showing him images of something that he thought was familiar but couldn't place. Burning buildings, a man in thick, gothic style armor hovering over him like some kind of black shade, and burning cruel eyes that promised his death… Luckily he always woke up just as he was being strangled by a long and slimy thing about his small neck. The voices had gotten worse in the years and when he had sought any kind of help from his foster parents they had stared at him like he was insane, huddled the other kids away from him, and had called the Service on him. And on to another place he was shuttled off. He had learned not to ask for help on that day, all the while the murmuring and the rage that the words instilled in him was piling up. Until they reached the pinnacle that they were at now, virtually screaming in the fifteen year olds ears to commit crimes. _

_And not just any crimes. Violence, blood, murder… it was so easy they would say. Humans were soft, vulnerable, so many weak spots that it was ridiculous, all it took was a snap here, a slice there, and they were goners. Richard didn't like it when the voices showed him what it would look like or the small rush that filled the back of his head, like glass shards falling on his buzzed head… It disturbed him, but interested him at the same time. What was wrong with him? _

_Hah… he had heard people ask him that question his entire life. 'What the fuck is wrong with you?!' had been shouted at him almost from the start of his life in Foster facilities. It wasn't that he cared what others thought, he had learned to push that away when he was much younger and still phased by their hateful words, it was that he too wondered just what made him different. _

"_Yo, Rich, let's get it goin'! The store's been closed for two hours, I think it's safe, dude," Richard lifted is head from his thoughts and turned to the head of his little gang. There were four other boys beside himself, all hoodlums that were the scum of society on New Germany, all doing what they could to survive. After all, you could live on air for only so long after slamming the door in the face of your latest Foster care parent; your body needed food eventually and he was too young to be considered for any of the jobs that were available in this part of the planet. _

_Pushing off the brick wall he had been leaning on Richard nodded and pulled his leather jacket closer to ward off the wicked German winter. They tramped through the snow, towards the darkened store that was owned by a guy all the locals knew was a drug runner. He supposed this way they thought they were doing an evil to an evil therefore it was somehow justified, even though Riddick knew that was a load of crap. They were all just hungry and this guy had the lowest security of all the stores in the area, the best possible chance for a meal was here. The guy in front of him, a short and stalk guy that was obviously a local borne and raised here drew out a large crow bar from his jacket and twirled it in his fingers, eyeing the glass of the main window. Two others did the same while him and the leader each took out their large sacks for taking as much grub as possible. If all went well tonight they wouldn't have to do this for another two weeks. If all went well tonight the fuzz wouldn't show to spoil it all like they had the last three times. _

_The snow was cold and biting through his boots, even now it was somehow finding holes and ways into his leather and making his socks wet and damp. Germany chill sunk into his very bones and made him shiver with the force of it, his eyes struggling to adjust to the dark around him. Shattering glass assailed his ears, making them ring loudly as the shards fell from the top of their holding and down into the waiting snow, glittering and shimmering their way down. With the pathway cleared into the shop his gang surged through the once barrier, flicking out their own bags and cheering to themselves. Richard watched with a puff of a breath floating before his face, his chocolate brown eyes narrowing and his eyebrows knitting together. Was this anyway to live? He had thought about this before, that what he was doing… what they were doing… was wrong. They were robbing some guy of his livelihood, probably getting him into trouble with his bosses, and making themselves out to be common criminals. _

_Was it alright to do it if it was from someone that they thought of as scum? This was no way of living… he finally concluded as he stepped forwards, listening to the cacophony of broken glass crunching under his boots; but it was his only way of surviving. That's all that mattered; surviving was the only thing that was left. "Make sure ya get the damn bread this time," the shaven youth shouted, launching himself into the vacant store. _

_He was greeted with a varieties of hand waving and shouting at him that he was stupid, that they'd remember this time. No one wanted to go back to eating only canned beans and chocolate again, their stomachs couldn't handle it, not when they were this close to starving again. The rumbling, loudly, of Richard B. Riddick's stomach reminded him just why he was here and he shouldered his sack before heading down one of the many aisles that littered the store. The nagging aching in his gullet was what was truly spurring him. _

_Finally having given up on the Foster system himself, as it had given up on him long ago, he had turned his back to a warm house and a square meal for this. But it was better, he thought as he tramped down the aisle, stopping here and there to size up what was displayed before him; this way he was free and could do whatever the hell he wanted. This way he was with people that at least somewhat understood him. The fosters never had… the hatred in their eyes, the fear, his reputation had preceded him it would seem throughout the system. _

_His eyes fell upon the tell tale dark packaging of interspatial food stuffs, the kind that you just stored into your containers and that was vacuumed sealed to the point where an entire meal was paper thin. Just add water and heat and you had practically a homemade meal, steaming hot with potatoes and in some of the deluxe kinds gravy. He wondered what it would be like to be out there… among the stars. To pilot his own ship, to be completely free, to be at no ones mercy but his own, it would be heaven. A snap brought his attention from the frozen food stuffs towards where one of the boys was actually snarling into several pieces of beef jerky while stuffing the rest of the bags into his sack. Watching how he ravaged into the hard meat, petrified almost with drying, brought home the stark reality of just what he had done when he had run away a year or so ago. _

_It was easy to just awash in the numbness that came with the cold, grey exterior and life that he led in New Germany's Bad Land. The poor East side of the largest city on planet, desolate and hardly able to pay any bills with any job most of the people that lived down here were thieves, muggers, or drug runners. Luckily, Riddick was just the lesser of three evils. Though lately… if the voices had anything to say about it, he would be even higher in the food chain then he was now. _

"_Rick, hey man, what kinda beans you want this time? Baked or ranch style?" the voice of the youngest of them, a mere twelve years old, squeaked over one of the bins tops. Richard leaned over and stared down at the only five foot wonder and watched as he held both cans up for inspection. Truth be told, Riddick could go his entire life without eating another bean and it would be too soon, just looking at the cans made his stomach churn. But they needed the protein, the fiber, and just about every good thing that beans had in them, which meant that he had to chose which one would not make him vomit it back up. _

"_Baked," Richard stated in an already gravely voice. He was tall for his age, much taller than the other boys in the gang, even their eighteen year old leader. His frame was already starting to become hard and larger, his muscles protruding and his entire demeanor becoming that of an animal. It was like as the years went on he became less human, became set apart, isolated, he didn't know if he liked that or not just yet. All he did know was that in a fist fight he could crush any dudes face in if necessary, and that had its perks. No one messed with you when you were inching up to six feet already and had shoulders broader than most two men put together. _

"_Time until the alarm goes off, Specs," their leader, Leon, came around the corner, his sack already filled and brimming. He looked towards the second oldest, a seventeen year old that had an even more fucked up life than Richard's. His parents had not wanted him but he had brought in extra money with the tax returns, so instead of kicking him out on the streets or giving him up to the system, they had merely beaten the poor kid to within an inch of his life. He was a frail kid, hardly any thicker than Riddick's wrist, with shoulder length, stringy brown hair and the bluest eyes he had ever seen, hidden behind a pair of broken black rimmed glasses. _

_Specs, as he was known rather than his given name David, turned and pushed up his sleeve, staring at the portable computer he had made himself with spar parts he had found around the house when he was younger. It was his parents old home that they now lived in. No one knows what happened to Dave's parents… and Richard never felt like asking. It wasn't his business, besides… if the stink coming from the garden was any indicator he didn't wanna know what happened. "Three minutes. We have plenty of time, Leo," the brain of the operations said with a waning smile. They had never seen the boy truly grin or smile, his eyes always held fear in them, and whenever Riddick so much as approached him he winced and flitted away. Richard was used to that reaction. _

"_Then hack the safe under the register and get the ending day cash, maybe we'll luck out this time and be able to buy some socks," Leon stated gruffly, pulling his coat closer. The store had been warm and nice when they had broken in but in the process of pilfering it the weather had invaded and turned the air to an icy chill once more. _

_Riddick didn't say anything. It was like Leon to think about the group as a whole rather than any one particular thing. This was like his family, he'd told the bald youth that when he had first come on, this was his only tie to the Earth and he would be damned if he let something get in the way of it. Leon was here to take care of them all, make sure they get what they needed… even if it wasn't enough. He was trying, but it was getting to the point where Richard was starting to wonder if he could do better on his own. The main concern of his life shouldn't be about socks; he was not sure at this point what it should be, but it most certainly shouldn't be that. _

_Life was still shit, even out of the Fosters. Where his twisted fate would lead him next, he wondered._

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

He had stayed on that planet too long for his tastes. Four months of darkness were all right, but for some reason he had begun to get a strange feeling. Something was tugging him in the gut, something unsettling was on the horizon, and it was telling him that he had to move to avoid it lest he get wrapped up in it completely. So now he found himself floating listlessly amongst the stars, staring out towards the direction his destination was plotted. He did not like this feeling, this foreboding, telling him that something was very, very wrong.

Riddick shifted in his pilots chair and let his mind fuzz over with the drugs that were pumping into his body. The cryo gauntlet was fastened soundly to his wrist, piercing into his wrist and pumping him full of the powerful medications. It was too great of a distance not to go under the cryo sleep, or the fucked up version he had to under go, this way he saved up on his food supplies and didn't have to use the restroom. This way his body was asleep by all means and his mind was wide awake, if not slightly inebriated. It would be a along time until his next destination, a full twenty seven weeks, and if he kept letting his mind race and his inward darkness boil over he would be aware of it constantly. And so incredibly bored out of his mind.

Flashes of his life before he became known just as Riddick the animal were flashing unbidden before his eyes. Of his first kill… of his first robbery, of the first of everything that started him down this path to become what he was now. Some loner in a vessel in the middle of a nowhere system going in to get a few supplies at the closest station, get some 'entertainment' and be on his merry way; always moving, never staying in one place for longer than a few years. It was starting to wear on the convict to be honest. He wondered how long he could keep this up. He wouldn't always be in the unstoppable shape he was now, someday he would grow old and feeble, just like the rest of any species, and be caught finally. Where would he end up when that happened? How long would an old man last in a Slam? Or would he merely be shot…?

The necromongers were still after his ass, that much he knew for damn sure. He could feel them coming up on him almost every second of every waking day; that small chill tickle on the back of his neck announced them better than any gunshot or shout. They changed the air around them, those death obsessed freaks, somehow, someway, they made the air colder and all the happiness that had existed in the room was sucked out like a great void. They wondered why he had run off… he couldn't stand the sensation of being surrounded by death every single breath he took. Necromongers had a strange scent to them as well. He couldn't pin it, even now as he reflected on it and went through all the possible pungent odors he knew of. They were decaying from the inside, or something of the like, that same sickening sweet scent of rotting flesh; only it was their souls that were festering away inside of an empty body. He would rather die than to become something like them; even if he was more like a necromonger than he would like to think.

His nostrils flared suddenly and his eyes shot open, fingers gripping into the arms of his chair. While going through the hidden depths of Dame Vaako in particular, to figure out just what she smelled like other than stink covered by spice, he came up upon one particular scent he didn't think he would remember this late in the game. Spicy, harsh, pungent, strong… female yet so undeniably masculine.

"Georgie girl," he grumbled out with his brows furrowing in slight confusion. Why would he think of her now? Now that he reflected on it he had not thought of the fellow assassin in over two and a half years, having pushed her out of his conscious mind to move on and out with his life. He had stuck by their agreement, had left her alone, even when in the first month after their departure he had been ready to burst and find her again. She had given him something he had not had in a while, something to feel, something to grip onto for no matter how short of a period of time.

Riddick blinked slowly when a flash went through his minds eye. Georgina Collins, with her untamable rusted hair, crouching against her co-pilots chair and staring out idly into the stars with a pensive look. That strong body, that wit, everything… had been annoying about her. Annoying and yet deeply intriguing. The complete opposite of what he usually went for in a woman, Fry being the almost embodiment of what he wanted in a mate, he had been surprised in that Slam when he had wanted the fellow killer so strongly. And he wasn't good at denying his baser instincts when it came to women.

When he'd been having his way with her he had felt in a long time, burning, searing, consuming passion and need for a body; someone else's body. The cheap fucks and whores he encountered at the stations that he used to slate his hunger that would go years without being fed were nothing compared to when he had been with the fiery and somewhat spastic younger woman. He had not liked to think about it so he had driven as far from her as he possibly could, leaving her on that planet in the Ihram and determined to forget her wholly. For a long time it had worked. He wondered…

Did she do the same? Did she remember him at all? Why the fuck should he care? He didn't, to be honest, brutally honest, he just was bored and had latched onto something that would provide the most brooding time to be passed. A sardonic grin came over his lips slightly when he remembered the game they'd played in the beginning, when she had desperately tried to deny that she wanted him the same way he wanted her, had fought him tooth and nail like a cornered animal. She'd hit him, scratched him, and nearly stabbed him several times, but in the end he had won out. She was his in those months, completely and utterly she had belonged solely to him. Even still he didn't know what it had been about her that had attracted him. Was it that same animalistic glare that they seemed to share, the way that her body moved that was graceful and smooth and yet sloppy and full of holes in her defense, or was it the way that she had actually stood up to him when she was about to shit her pants?

Whatever the hell it had been was three years in the past. George had probably already gone on to bigger and better targets, racking up yet more kills to her name and working her way up in the hit man world. Someone such as her was someone never to trifle with… he pitied the idiot that had wronged her enough for her to seek him out.

Something beeped on his left swiftly and abruptly the ship was suddenly shaking hard and fast. The Cryo, shouting in alarm and letting out a jarringly loud screech, disconnected from his wrist by him ripping it out and spinning around in his chair. Pulling his goggles off and throwing his hands into work on a series of buttons and switches he deftly began to assess the situation. What the hell had just happened?

"Left thruster engine damaged, capacity lowered to eighty percent, disengaging hyper speed," the computers crackling voice echoed over the speakers situated next to him on both sides of the head. Sure enough the slight blurring that had been happening at the edges of the ships windows slowed to where he could make out each and every damn bolt and the ship began to let out a loud spluttering noise from the left handed side. The convict snarled and brought up charts of the damage and a schematic quickly, going over it with a sweep of his gaze and realizing with a narrowing of his eyes on the radar that there was a ship coming up fast right behind him. How had the ship not alerted him before this shit had gotten up to him??

"Fuck," he growled and brought down the gun turret screens and activated them, swinging in his chair again and taking hold of the control handles. Gritting his teeth Riddick swung his ship around in the middle of deep space, breaking his path of navigation to face the guys that had just taken a shot at him. There was debris floating off next to the ship, bolts and shards of the former engine of the six winged vessel he had stolen from a slaver. Pulling down the targeting mask and readying for a fight he felt his heart beat speed up. He had not had a space battle in a long time, not since a few years after the wailing wars when Johns had caught up to him in his newly stolen ship. He'd shown him then and he would be shit if he didn't do so now, no one came after Richard B. Riddick. Or shot at him. Oh, no one shot at him when he was in cryo, that only made him pissed off.

"Switch auxiler power to the remaining two engines on the left side, power up the last row and prepare shielding," he hissed to the computer. A series of loud clacks and the added humming of beefed up shielding informed him his orders were taken to heart of the machine.

He watched with baited breath his own ion drive. It wasn't unheard of for bounty hunters or rats to hide in the stream that followed all ships, masking their approach visual as if to confuse the captain of the vessels. This was actually common practice among many of them. However, usually the followed ship would be able to detect the enemy given a certain amount of space, and considering how close it had been on radar when he had last checked it should have pulled him out of cryo jarringly fifteen minutes ago! Riddick's silver eyes watched the swirling of blue, gold, and red shimmer starkly compared to the inky black all about him, planets of a nearby system hulking ominously in the distance. Blood rushed through his ears and his heart was starting to hammer louder and louder with the thought of a coming fight, and yet his mind was the epitome of calm.

Riddick pulled his ship back harshly, backfiring his engines, just as the enemy came barreling out of the stream. He nearly bit his own tongue when he saw just what kind of ship it was. Pushing through the ion river of his shuttle came the long, slender, intricately detailed form of Necromonger ship. Ribbons of dying pinks and silver from the residue came floating from it while the hulking, much larger ship came at him with the dark matter cannons charging visibly.

"Double fuck," Riddick cursed.


	18. Chapter 18 Stench

**Holy monkey's I'm sorry this is so late. My life and the holidays that are sneaking up on me have been heck. So... Enjoy and I apologize for the delay. That being said, enjoy the violence muahahaha. **

**Chapter eighteen: **

**Stench**

Scrapping of nails and clothing upon coarse, hard concrete ripped at the air and filled the noise of a small alleyway. It was dark during the Helion systems nightfall, darker than many others lit only by the stars that hung in the sky like a blanket of diamonds, glowing feebly. Luckily… it provided just enough sight for a firm kick to the ribs.

Gagging, one of the mercs that had been stupid enough to come after her was slammed against the wall to where his head snapped from the force, red splashing onto the buildings surface behind. He slid down the harsh exterior, wheezing in horrible little whistles while his bludgeoned and blood shot eyes stared in horror at the woman before him, who was very nearly as beat as he. When it came to these kinds of fights… it all came down to who had the most stamina. Mercs often didn't' have enough to be worth shit in long played out struggles, so as he fell onto the ground and tried to scramble away the female grabbed his tattered collared and tossed him to the ground again. Raising up a single, combat boot encased foot, she snarled and smashed down onto his rib cage.

Already abused bones groaned and faltered under the pressure, giving off the feeling of broken glass under her stomp while the man let out a muffled, strangled cry. Georgina's brown eyes were glassy, filled only with rage and an odd sort of numbness that came with this kind of beating. The mercs face twisted into a pitiful gasp while his hands gripped desperately at her ankle to stop her from crushing his ribcage yet again while the killer merely glared down at him icily.

"I'll ask you again, nicely," she whispered in a voice that was hitched with her own fatigue. Pulling out one of her glittering, wicked daggers she twirled it idly before thumping it down into one of his arms and causing him to arch and shout in agony. She watched the blood seep from the sides of the metal with an odd fascination before turning her attention back to what she had come for. Someone had to have posted a damn high bounty on her for them to risk coming after her during a hit, and that someone would have to have had knowledge of just what mark she was on, where it was at, and just how to maneuver around in the underground circuit. She was going to find this dipshit and cut their balls off, stuff them up their ass, cut their throat vertically along the Adam's Apple, and then maybe end it all with a stab to the liver. "Who posted it and for how much? I can do this all night…" George whispered.

The merc stared at her with swollen eyes, his mouth opening and closing with painful gasps. Just as George was reaching for her other dagger, having stained some of her newest pants during this fight, he whimpered and tossed his head to the side. She scoffed but held off, her senses tuned into her prey. Though her body was covered in wounds, cuts, bruises, and several grazed gunshot wounds, and her very form was throbbing with pain and discomfort, she still had all the energy she needed to get the information she wanted. She wouldn't black out for another ten minutes, more than enough time to get this fucker to say what he had to say, get the ship, pass out in the sick bay and have the ship fix her up itself. Thank god for cell replacement technology… She had not gotten out of this fight without her own considerable damage, that was for damn sure.

When minutes dragged by George kicked the man across the face, a sickening snapping sound resonating through the dingy alley. There was one other body starting to foul up the place just behind her, a crippling reminder to her victim just where he would be going if he didn't spill his secret. And even then… there was little chance of him leaving here alive, should she did just walk away he was still doomed. Might as well die with an empty conscious. "A six million creds bounty is awfully high, tell me who posted it and maybe I'll leave you alone."

A gurgling broke through the pensive silence of the guy beneath her, broken and beaten. She tilted her head to the side, blood running down the side of her face from a savage bludgeoning mere hours before, falling off of her chin in thick red drops. He rolled over onto his side, his swollen eyes cracking open against the injuries residing there to stare up at the maniac of a woman before him, while putting up a hand in surrender. George felt the sweet release of victory rush through her chest, causing a breath to hitch thankfully, when he let out a shuddering 'fine' and whimpered pathetically.

"Some... some guy…" the merc spluttered.

George laughed loudly at that, rolling her eyes. She shook her head and snarled, bringing her boot down into his rib cage again, listening with a sick satisfaction at the scream that lifted weakly from his throat. "Some guy? That narrows it down to around a trillion…" she snapped. By all means she was being lenient with this guy, she had yet to pull half of the shit she knew on him, she hadn't injected him with an overdose of a narcotic, forced a pump down his throat, pulled off all of his finger and toenails, and started to scalp him. She had thought about it… but she needed him coherent, and that required no tube and no drugs. Fate was a bitch.

Coughing up a grotesque blackish looking liquid he tossed his head to the side and simpered quietly. "Riddick! Fine, it was fucking Riddick, the damn bald bastard!"

George stopped as she was about to punch him again to get him to talk. Her eyes widened while her heart seemed to freeze in her chest. Shock ran through her body in icy tendrils, pushing out any and all thoughts that might have been residing within her or the pain that was throbbing in her body. Her vision vanished for a moment and all she could see was blackness, as if her form had shut down from the statement… then everything went red. Hatred, rage, and a depthless sense of stupidity for trusting someone such as Riddick filled her every pore. She pulled herself away from the writhing man that was mere moments from death and picked up a gun that sat idle on the ground from the very man before her. She twirled it for a few seconds, regarding its design with a somber, blank face while her brown eyes were searing bottomless pits of hellfire.

Snarling the woman turned and shot a single round between the mercs eyes. His head nearly cleaved in half, brains and blood flying from the wound that had just been instigated and splashing Georgina across the face. But she didn't care. She stared down as the body went still, bleeding out upon the dingy concrete below her feet, but nothing registered except what he had said. Riddick… Riddick, fucking Riddick, was the one that had put a huge bounty on her head? As much as her muddled mind was trying to tell her, way in the back recesses, that the fact that he would do such a thing didn't make sense the rage inside of her was building up steadily.

Not even bothering to wipe her face of the spilled blood and guts she turned and started to limp down and out of the dead end. It was now, now that the fighting was over, that her body allowed itself to acknowledge just what damage had been done to it in that scuffle. Her hair was matted with dirt, blood, and the garbage that had littered the ground from where she had started running to here; her clothing was torn and in shambles with her tank top barely holding on to her deltoid, and her pants blotched with blood and several garish holes in the fabric. Cuts and bruises covered her body from the easily four hour long fight and flight, where she had fought her hardest in years to make it out of a place alive; one particularly bad wound minus the one on her head that had one of her eyes now starting to stick shut because of the excess life fluid flowing over it was her arms had a long, deep, to the bone laceration from a merc's sword. She was worse for wear, she knew that for shit, and as she limped further outwards with the ending in sight, she could only fuzzily think of what had just been revealed to her.

She stumbled a bit at the entrance to the alleyway, where another body was sitting there motionless. Reaching out she steadied her quaking, tired body against the wall and growled at her own weakness, picturing in her slightly feverish mind the image of Riddick putting up that bounty. No such thing as a friend… she was a fool to have ever trusted him. What had she been expecting? From another criminal there was no reliance, there was only suspicion, and what better way to get rid of 'competition' then to have them taken out…? For some reason she had pegged the bald man better than that; hah, shows her. George leaned against the coarse corner of the wall, her eyes bleary and just able to see the ground before her. Gathering up what little strength was left in her form she pushed off and started to walk again, gritting her teeth and deciding then and there that if he wanted a confrontation so badly that he would get one.

"Jesus Christ! Are you okay ma'am??" she stopped as she was just entering into a main road. She swiveled her head, her hair covering her good eye in thick clumps while her blood drenched one was forced open to show the dark red had invaded the white. There standing just a few feet away was a man, no older then thirty, gaping at her injured form and holding what looked to be a grocery bag from a local store. Fuck… what time was it? There shouldn't be anyone on the streets this late.

She spat out some collecting spit before locking gazes with the other, a small, demented smirk forming on her face. She must have looked the world over like a demon, some kind of alley rat, beat up to shit and then walking away like it was no big thing, she must look like the world had fucked her over twice, shitted on her, and then decided to pound on her for good measure. It was certainly what she felt like right now. This newcomers green eyes widened to see Georgina in such shape and the second he moved to take a step towards her she slid one back, her still blood soaked daggers warning him with the glimmer of the moon on their stained steel. "I'm fine, just fine," she croaked out, lying through her teeth. Well, it wasn't that big of a lie. She would be fine the second she got into the med bay on her ship and was off this heap of dung.

"You're hurt real bad… what happened to you?" the guy wasn't getting the clue. George watched him come closer, finding that one of her feet seemed to have fallen asleep in her moments rest and cursed it bitterly. She regarded him icily, having found in all of her years alive that anyone that she didn't know explicitly was someone not to be trusted, at all.

Just as he was within arms distance her hand flashed up and the very tip of her wicked dagger, curved at the end so that it just barely tapped his Adam's Apple, was at his throat. He froze. It was then that she got a good look at him, with shaggy short black hair and a medium sized build this guy looked nothing more than a mere merchant that had happened upon a blood bath on accident. She debated killing him as well, and as she stared into his eyes and contemplated his death she saw the fear, anxiety, and confusion written there. Innocence gleamed in those green orbs, innocence she had lost long ago when Artemis fell. She…

She couldn't do it. Again she found her resolve for unneeded violence rearing its ugly head and in that moment his life was spared, if only for a few more years or decades until life took its eventual course. He didn't know she was being lenient though… for he was still stark still and there was sweat starting to film on his brow and neck. George lowered the cold metal from the killing point and whispered under her breath, "I can take care of myself, mind your own business before I change my mind." And with that the killer limped off into the night, leaving the merchant to stare after her with shock and fear running through his body in avid racks. Not that she cared… she had bigger, balder fish to fry.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXX

George winced as she leaned back into the med bay cell replacement chair, situating herself before bringing the machine down. She slid her arm with the most garish of wounds in first, closing the tubing for her extremities around it and flipping a few switches to her right with barely functioning fingers. With a loud clicking noise her arms was sealed off from the rest of the room by thick plastic membranes and trapped within the confines of the clear container, the screen before her eyes pulled up the scanning process and what actions the machine would most likely take. Narrowing her eyes she ignored the strange sensation of the top layer of her skin being zapped into ash and then washed away with a frigid combination of disinfectant and numbing solution. This would not be pleasant…

A flash of light caught her attention from the corner and she watched with bare interest as the scanners within the large container shifted from the top and proceeded down the length of her injured arm. The green light danced in a firm, solid looking line, disappearing into crags in her skin and changing colors over the still caked red on her flesh. George returned to the main screen, watching as the scan turned up a three dimensional model of her arm and what damage it had suffered, and just as she had thought the massive gash on her upper arm was highlighted in dark red with an alert attached to it. According to the machine if she didn't get the most invasive and painful of all of the replication procedures… she would lose her arm. Nerve damage, check, tissue damage, hell yes, and nerve and bone damage, up the ass and through the nose… she had known she'd been given a run for her money but she hadn't known it was that bad.

Smirking sardonically she once more flipped a switch and felt the sting of the lasers within the container at the bottom start to burn their way up the failing arm that was still pulsing blood. Cauterize the wounds and then start the procedure… it was scary how good this thing was. Then again, it had to be. It was made for mercs after all, and because of run ins with people like her the fuckers needed things like this. If they didn't there would be a lot less mercenaries out there; a lot less 'rats too. The tubing filled with a thick, gelatinous pink viscous material just as George was starting to tune out the process, far used to this kind of medical treatment from her line of work. Her arm submerged the process began, and with a searing, burning sensation that was as if her entire limb was suddenly being ripped from her body she knew that it was going to be a long night.

"Navigation system on, coordinates for the," she faltered. The computer, she knew, was listening and waiting patiently for just where they were going to be headed next in her odd quest. Should she still continue her suddenly driven curiosity of her brother and his involvement in mercs and drug dealers, or… should she go after Riddick and she what the fuck this whole bounty thing was about?

That in and of itself posed many problems. Her brother was a necro convert, he had been turned many years ago now, and was undoubtedly holed up on their main ship with the rest of the shit out there. He had been too small to be a fighter, and he was no good with anything art related, which lead to either politics or science, both of which wouldn't suite him in the Necromonger society. Noah would be surrounded by others of his kind, hundreds of thousands of other converts of fallen star systems, the chances of her getting to him and finding out just what the fuck he had gotten himself into were slim to none. But she couldn't stop this nagging sensation in the pit of her chest that something was not right. Add to that the fact that it was Riddick that she was contemplating going after, the Riddick, and her choices were sharp and dangerous. More than they usually were.

By all means this could be some kind of trap to get her out of the way in someone's grand scheme, as paranoid as that seemed. Riddick was pure power, he could snap her in half like a twig; he sorely out skilled and out classed her when it came to hand to hand and knife battle. The only way she would ever be able to take him out was a sniper round… but even then somehow he seemed like someone that could either dodge it, sense her presence and sneak up behind her, or just plain live through the damn shot. She wondered if he could live through a shot to the temple… through and through, nice and clear and messy.

'_That's if he is behind it_,' a nagging voice whispered in her ear. George snarled at herself and refused to give this voice credence, however; now that she was being pumped with pain meds and getting the medical care that she desperately needed she had time to think things out rationally and articulately. What possible reasons could Riddick have for having someone of a lesser standing in their circles dead? What could he possible want her gone for? Why would he draw that kind of attention to himself by posting a bill for that much money, much less hiring mercs that could turn and ghost his ass to get his bounty? Now that she stopped to think about it all many things were not adding up in her head.

Too often she had learned was she prone to acts of extreme aggression and anger. She had learned the hard way in the slam that such attacks didn't work on someone like him, coming at him full force would only make you more of an open target. She had learned how to adapt thanks to her most recent stint in the Slam. She had to ponder on this one, weigh the consequences of her actions, and see if this was truth or just falseness spread by a dying merc seeking some kind of final twisted laugh. What would the dead guy have to profit from by lying to her in his final moment though? But, if you were about to perish at the hands of someone else, wouldn't you try to tell them information that would lead to their own untimely demise and get some kind of sweet vindication in death? Hell knew she would do that… so then by all means, since Mercs were little more than killers themselves, that concluded that his word could not be trusted. Nor could it be left un-trusted. Leaving something as dangerous as a bounty that large on her head would not do; it would get her killed faster than putting her own gun in her mouth.

What choice did she have, really? '_Plenty, just think it through, slowly_,' George reminded herself while chewing on the inside of her lip nervously, glaring at the screen with sightless eyes. The best laid plans of mice and men, but also the hastily thatched ones of those in desperation would be torn asunder by a simple gust of chancing wind. If she went after Riddick, and right now that was a massive if, then she would have to form a plan. A plan that was as damn near to foolproof as one could get while dealing with that beast of a man.

Then again Noah could have something to do with this most recent turn in events. This did not crop up until she was getting dangerously close to being a snoop into the Necromonger's and a drug dealing cartel that was systems wide and strong. They might not want her getting to close, or were finally deciding to get rid of her. It could all be a massive trap, designed to make her think it was Riddick, get her all geared up and ready to handle the man, and then be completely flabbergasted when it wasn't him and left with a horrible disadvantage. She would be a sitting duck with an axe at its neck… She did not like the taste that her options were leaving in her mouth. If this is what the circumstance was giving her to work with then fuck was she screwed.

She couldn't act on this. Not now. The situation was dire, but not nearly enough that she was in a corner and would have no choice but to decide what to do. No…Her brown eyes narrowed sharply and her teeth gritted to the point of pain. There was no other choice. Until further information was available she couldn't do anything, she would just have to pray that the mercs wouldn't be able to bring her to a slam or kill her before she found out if it was a hoax or not. Until then she would have to gather intel and figure out just what the fuck was going on here.

The medications for the cell regeneration finally kicked in at that moment and her vision became blurry and splotchy. The hard metal roof of the med bay swirled around before fading fuzzily, bringing the killer down farther and faster than any natural sleep would know. For now… she was in the shipping lanes and was safe enough that she would decide where she was going where she woke up in a few hours or maybe even a day. Maybe something would be worked out in her subconscious.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXX

How the fuck had they managed to find him? Riddick's eyes shifted from one Necromonger to the next with a disdain in his gaze that was gracelessly masked by his goggles. He shifted his massive bulk against the wall he was leaned up against in his 'cell' on board the ship and began to contemplate deeply the circumstances of his capture. The cell was an adequate size, if it could be called a cell with a bed with actual sheets and a mattress on it, a toilet, and joys of joys a porthole to the outside. The only thing that was keeping him in here besides the chains around his wrists and ankles, chains that even he had to admit were impossibly large, was the fact that the door was made of that fucking ridiculously ornate Necro metal baring.

Anger settled into his chest as he remembered every single detail of his capture into Necromonger hands. It had been four years since he had even been on one of their clunky ass ships and he had worked himself to near frying to keep it that way. Every flash of metal, every wire frying right in front of his face as the enemy ship had opened fire on all of his engines then on taking down his shields… then of them docking and forcing open his airlock in order to get to him. Sure, he had turned the lights off, killed four or five before they managed to realize what was going on and then finished off a good four more before they took him down with several powerful sedatives, but he still couldn't believe he had gone down that easy. The smell of angry, curling, fried electrical smoke still stung in his nostrils and singed at his face from the abrupt explosions aboard. It had been a nice ship too, shame it had to be torn apart like that. And then…

He had woken up here. First they had treated his wounds while he was sleeping under the drugs, that was a dead give away from the gauze still wrapped heavily around his arms and chest. When you went up against guns and you had shiv's the guns got in a few hits before they went down, but in hand to hand he could have killed the entire crew; eventually. Then they must have shackled him and put him in here, where there were two visible guards on either side of the heavy door with dark matter tasers and ready at any time to take him down. His head was still pounding from waking up only hours before, but now, oh now he was completely lucid. Upon realizing just where he was and where he was more than likely headed he had snapped awake and started to try to plot his escape.

Which would be easier if he knew this design of ship; much easier. Maybe he should have thought of this kind of thing before he blew up their Necropolis…

Who would be the one to 'greet' him on the Necromonger ship? Probably that smug bastard Vaako; the guy would probably try to knife him on the spot to get his hands on Riddick's title as Lord Marshal. Unwanted title, but it was his all the same. And according to Necro law no new Lord could be appointed until he died or gave the power up to someone else, which wasn't going to happen any time soon. Now the only question was when were they gonna try to off him? Riddick did not want to stay to find out that day but should it come before he got off of this ship then he was confident that he could take Vaako; previous fight not withstanding.

Shifting in his shackles the convict settled against a wall and set his sights upon the guards standing outside with a narrowed look. A neat 'w' forming between his brows he gauged the size of the holes between the ornate metal bars and wondered just what he could get through. If he could get his hands through, though doubtful, then he could do lots damage to them and get a way out. That was also counting on him finding a way out of these comically thick manacles. Scanning the room for what felt like the four hundredth time since he woke he looked for any weaknesses anywhere within its structure or within the guards stances outside. There was always a weak link, a chink in the armor, somewhere, anywhere, he just had to find it. The only issue was turning into the fact that he wasn't finding any and if he looked too hard and actively his guards would get suspicious and his plans would go to shit.

This was getting more fucked by the minute. What the hell was he supposed to do? His mind whirling in over time you couldn't tell that he was getting just a little frantic about his situation from the cool and gruff demeanor he was portraying. The second he showed his frustration it would be weakness and then he would be vulnerable to those that sought to harm him in this cell. He refused to be vulnerable. That was what Jack had been, a chink, and he would never let that happen again.

The horror and icy freeze that had washed over his body when he had seen the Lord Marshal beckon her out and seen her all Necromonger-ish once more ran through his body. The dead look in her eyes, the defeat, the once adoration that had existed even in that Slam was replaced by something that had been verging on contempt, and he had felt his world crack. What made him Riddick had started to drain away and run down his fingers like water as he watched Kyra walk around him and mutter how easy it was to convert, how it didn't hurt anymore, and how the physical world was gone from her now. She had… even smelled like one of them. That had hurt worst of all. That sweet scent of decay hanging around someone as young and fiery as Jack had been, death sinking its claws slowly and poisoning his charge, had been a blow to his gut and made him wheeze… That's where the drive to kill the Marshal had really come from. It wasn't because his race was dead, it wasn't because it was the right thing to do, or because the Elemental had told him he would do it, no… it was what they had done to Jack. His Jack; his little sister and kindred spirit. The Lord Marshal had been dead from the second he had introduced the newly converted girl as far as Riddick's mind had been concerned.

His vision had gone red and he had never been filled with such a bloodlust in his life. It had surpassed even that of when Fry had been impaled by those damn creatures. Perhaps… because he had finally allowed himself to get close to someone again, to open up, to become more human; and then to have that person ripped away? That was more than he could stand. Riddick remembered the exact moment he had shut himself off entirely again. It had been when her eyes closed and that blood was running down the side of her mouth. She had died to save him, to protect him, even while she had been under the Necromonger creed.

Maybe that's why he had so adamantly insisted that anything that happened between him and Georgina Collins meant nothing. Sure they would fuck, sure they would fight, and sure they would eventually part ways, but it meant nothing to him. It couldn't mean anything. Riddick was as dead inside as any Necro hoped to be.

Having let his thoughts wander for far too long, and concerned about how now that he had been reminded of the red head she was prevalent in his thoughts again, the bald criminal once more returned to surveying his room and captors. There was no other choice. He would merely have to wait it out. Sit here and twiddle his thumbs as best he could with them chained together until they foolishly opened the door. He would have to find a way to loosen his ties, but that was an easier problem than getting out of this room. After all… the problem with the Necroshit's were that they were so concerned with the gothic look of their bars they didn't think that the thinner the metal the easier it was to break off. Glancing over to the headboard of his supposed prison cot he smirked and noted small gilded wiring wrapping around the head pole. This would be easier than he thought…

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

'_Something's not right here…' tender feet padded softly into pure, glistening white sand. Pristine blue water flooded in gentle waves onto the beach, breaking and creating foam that rushed up to the toes of a young woman no older than fourteen. Sky of a pure, crystalline azure stretched before her dotted with massive sailing clouds of impressive cotton; the planets singular sun grinned down upon the rapturous ocean. Brown eyes shifted from the feel of the cold water hitting against her toes, digits now buried deep within the darkening sand wet with salt water, to the shoreline, and back towards the town that was situated behind her. The whitewash buildings lined with brightly colored fabrics hanging to dry in the mid day heat met her gaze while the roofs stretched up with thatched and red clayed glory. _

_As much as the scene was priceless and awe striking something didn't feel right about it. It was too quiet. Waves washing upon the shore were the only noises in what would be the loudest, bustling time of day in the city in which she lived. There should be children laughing and screaming at each other up and down this coast, parents running after them, old women gossiping while going about their days, artists painting the scene before her for the millionth time in their careers, and ships should be scuttling around above them and hovering on glowing blue rings of power. But none of that was there. The rushing was the only thing that broke into her ears, not even the sound of the gulls that inhabited this area and would be crying and pleading for food from the skies above were heard. Only deafening, roaring silence. For a planet such as Artemis Prime that was not good. It wasn't normal, it wasn't safe… what was wrong with this picture? _

_Georgina Collin's flexed her toes within the heavy grains beneath her and winced at the frigid temperature they brought into her joints. Once more clad in the clothing of her home world she pursed her lips and turned, facing the town and the disturbingly somber atmosphere. Why was it that she couldn't remember the last time the city had been truly quiet? Even at night it had the constant murmur of activity around it. But now it was like a ghost town. Even the once warm air seemed colder now. _

_Taking a tentative step forwards she winced when her toes met with the sand again only this time it felt like walking into pure ice. Glancing down she raised a singular eyebrow only to see something she had not expected. Ice coating the surface of the beach upon which she had stepped. Letting out a gasping breath she withdrew her foot back into where she was standing stark still and cast her stare upon the shoreline once more. Frozen was veining out from the spot where she had taken her step, reaching with tendrils of white and clear and working its way over the wet grains. Shock ran through George's body for she had never seen it ice in her home world, it was considered a tropical planet, the only winter that of reaching degrees of about forty. The ice spread like a plague, turning the white grey with heaviness and to her watching horror she gazed on as it started to make its way over the stone embankment and into the town beyond. _

"_The fuck…?" she whispered and took a tentative step backwards, her eyes widening to the point of pain. The point of contact behind her yielded only cracking frigid ice under her foot and she fell backwards in surprise. Landing upon frozen sand she started and glanced back towards the ocean which, to her dismay and utter terror, was frozen within its now tumultuous tossing. Azure blue was steadily beginning to be pierced by a hollow, unending blackness from the tips of the now blood red sun, seeping down and into the pure hue. George let a small gasp escaped her lips before the world was shrouded and the ice began to creep up her legs, chill bleeding into the skin and her very bones crying out in pain. _

George woke with a start, ripping at the air by her stationary legs. Heart pounding and mind racing like a hamster in a wheel it took her a moment to realize that through her blurred vision she was not on the beach of the conquered Artemis Prime. Hot air from the ships ventilation system hit her straight in the face, causing her thickly curled red hair to rustle against her drained cheek. Sweat caked her form, causing her clothing to stick to every facet of her and made her feel gross laying there with her arm still in the cell replication machine.

Sitting there, sprawled out in the chair, she took a moment to gather her harried thoughts. Her body was shaking and a fear like that of which she had only known when setting eyes upon the Necromongers falling to the planets surface of her home world was plunging deep into her core and holding itself there firmly. Her eyes firmed up and her vision set upon the metal grating on the wall opposite of her in the sick bay. The dream wasn't real, just breathe and she would be okay… just breathe.

It had been a long time since she had suffered from a nightmare, far longer than she can very readily recall. Glancing over to the empty chamber beside her, save for her fully healed up arm, she looked over the healed appendage slowly. There was a smooth line where the gash had been, irritated and red from the injury and from the rapid healing process it had gone under, but it would leave only a small mark if she was lucky and took care of it, if not it could just add to her garish ones dotting her body. Unhooking herself she sat up and rubbed the afflicted area while dwelling on her nightmare, pursing her lips in thought. George… did not suffer from the ailments of nightly frights as most did. The way she saw it was that if you had nightmares you regretted something in your life; she tried to live with as few regrets as possible. The only blaring one that came to mind was how she had treated her situation with Noah back when they were younger and first in New Spain.

She could have handled it better. It was her own fault that she was the way she was now, her own damn fault that she had turned into such a hard ass and a murderer… killing someone without blinking an eye. She could have found a better job, could have searched the entire planet if she had to, could have even found a way off world and onto a station where she could have by all means worked as a mechanic. But had she? No. George's dark eyes smoldered as she brooded, mulling over her past with a fine tooth comb and finding all of her past flaws; flaws that still followed her into the here and now. She had been blind, she had thought that this was the only way, that it was the best way for them to get food and shelter and a better life. That it was the last resort. When in reality it was just the easiest option at the time.

Sure she had lied to herself. She could see that now for what it was. She had fibbed and plundered the truth to keep it from showing the error of her thoughts. Though she says that now, when at the time it had seemed hopeless. The glories of being older and looking back at all the things you could have done. Maybe if she had done better then Noah wouldn't have turned to the Necromongers… maybe he would have been stronger and resisted them.

Resisted? Her mouth quirked downwards. If he had then he would have been killed. Did that mean that she would rather him dead and proud then defeated and converted? George didn't want to think anymore so she stood and rolled her stiff neck around to get the kinks out before making her way shakily out of the bay and into the haul of the ship, glancing around at the monitors that lined the way and the readings they were putting out.

She was still drifting in the shipping lanes outside of the Ichon system. The ship had gone into a 'stalled' state when she had fallen off without giving it orders, with no coordinates it couldn't fly anywhere. Where would she go? Where could she go? Scowling once more she sat down into the pilots chair with a huff, glaring out to the stars and ion trails before her. There was no where in particular that she wanted to go, no where that would welcome her, and no one that would greet her kindly. She was a wanted criminal and a mass murderer, wanted in all of the systems for at least one religious or political death… meaning her head was as good as severed if she went to the wrong place or stood out too much. Recalling just how she had gotten into this mess she pictured the boy that was her third party in all of her dealings and recited to herself the details of a protocol seven.

Georgina Collins was out of work until she ran up with the kid and made sure he was all right. Tapping her chin with her index finger the computer bleeped at her that it needed coordinates. Finally, she leaned back and muttered, "Set course for Epimethus two in the Iapetus system." All other things in her life could wait until she had this out of the way, until then nothing else mattered. Not Riddick or his supposed involvement, not her brother and his strange pattern of activity, nor the sudden resurgence of nightmares into her life.


	19. Chapter 19 Caged Birds

**Gotta love the character development chapters. Sorry if this is a little late. But considering that I have 'holiday' from work now, I think the chapters might be coming up a bit faster. I have five days off. WOOT **

**Chapter nineteen: **

**Caged Birds**

"Fuck, shit, damn it all to hell!" grasping onto the controls of her ship George whipped it around and opened fire, gritting her teeth sharply. The sharp glow of the pulsar rounds shooting off into the darkness of space nearly blinded her for a moment from within the darkened ship, the red head dipping her ship and causing the injured engines to groan in protest. Her eyes shot to an alarm sounding reading of her shields, showing they were at less than ten percent, meaning if she got hit one more time she would be almost defenseless and it would all depend on her piloting ability.

The enemy ship avoided her attack, its much smaller body contending with the raw power of her own vessel, dipping and charging towards her at alarming speeds for an only four engine skiff looking thing. Swearing again under her breath George slammed upwards and brought her craft into a nose dive, spinning as she went to decrease the chances of another wing hit while switching the main power from the broken engine four to the guns located at the ships head and along its spine. Her heartbeat was pounding in her head, throbbing and agonizing, while her body was prickling with adrenaline. The rush of a space battle had always been something disturbing to her but then again it was just another merc. A merc that didn't know just who he was fucking with…

A jarring rattle nearly knocked the woman from her seat and a small console next to her let out a cry before a large electric spark surged from it, busting open its casing and threatening to start a small fire. Grunting the woman finished her diversion, shots of the enemy going by the tempered glass of her cockpit sights, before pulling out and shooting upwards, thanking her stars that she wasn't in atmosphere combat. Spinning her ship around on its tail, nearly losing control for the lack of her fourth engine, she shouted and opened full fire on the oncoming enemy, her eyes narrowed. The plasma and bullet rounds tore through the inky darkness around her, the only light coming from the nearest system, the system she was on her way to, Iapetus.

The plasma shells smacked against the shield and ate through, leaving gaping wounds in the glowing murkiness while the ammunition rounds merely bounced off and out into the depths of space to hit some unknowing passerby. She almost felt guilty, but she didn't have time to think on that before she had to hold onto the controls for dear life when the merc ship opened fire on her as well, lowering its shields and letting loose a barrage that smashed into her remaining defenses and tore through the farthest left wing of her dying vessel. Alarms sounded off, red lights flashed in front of her eyes, and Georgina Collins knew that without a doubt she had clearly lost this fight. Gritting her teeth she rolled her chair back and pulled down the main cannon control, swearing inwardly that she was now converting all remaining power into the massive gun.

Metal and gears clinking together as the head of the ship opened up under her, unleashing the behemoth of a weapon she smirked to herself. Not even a high grade ether shield would hold up to a direct assault from a Grade S Hydrogen Pulsar beam with plasma fuel cells and penetrating round. If she was going down she would take a good chunk of them with her. Oxygen tubes from the auxiliary life support snapped above her, letting out hissing noises in her ears while smoke from the injured wing drifted in through the vents. Sweat ran down George's face while flashes of her homeland, of her brother, of everything that had lead up to this point… Energy crackling around the main cannon and the familiar heightening hum like that of a powerful storm filled the haul while screws shook within their holding and the air crackled with the building excitement.

"Screw you," she whispered while flicking the final switch above her. Punching in the button to her right she watched in satisfaction as the beam of pure, red hot heat with blue bolts of pure power streaming from it, ripped into the void of space and barreled towards her followers and would be captors.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

She really should stop waking up like this… Her lips parted and let out a slow and steady breath, a pain racking down her side through what felt like two cracked ribs. How did she keep getting into situations such as this? Maybe she should consider a career change. George's eyes fluttered open and then instantly regretted it when the low lights of a foreign haul assaulted her eyes, causing the now screaming in her head to heighten to unbearable levels.

She tried to move her arms and found them resisting, harshly, and the familiar feel of cool metal round her wrists caught her attention. Shifting around the hard surface of a ships haul was pressed against her back; sweet home… George shifted her eyes from looking down at her bound shackles in distaste to the area around her, wincing when even her eyes felt bruised. Would there ever be a time when she was completely healed up without having to worry about getting hurt again? Probably not, she thought with a grumble. The mercs had boarded her ship after she had fired that round at them, taking out their two right wings and sending the attack barreling through the cosmos to hit some unsuspecting planet or ship and either decimate it or severally rattle it. Either way it looked like they had scrounged parts from her ship and had repaired their vessel for she felt the familiar hum of a moving space ship against her spine.

George winced when her side growled out and wondered how long she had been out. She didn't even remember becoming unconscious… What the fuck had happened? All that she remembered was them boarding and her opening fire on the fuckers to get them off of her ship, hitting one in the chest, two in the legs, and then… Glancing towards her shoulder she gritted her teeth when she spotted the tell tale signs of being shot, namely a massive blood pool in her tank top and the skin around the deep wound stained a crimson gore. Now she remembered… the idiots had set off a tranquilizer round right into her shoulder but had a high powered weapon and it had done actual damage. Shame, that meant that whenever she was delivered to whoever posted that bounty they would deduct points for damaged goods.

She rolled her head back and closed her pounding eyes, swearing several times within the spaces of her mind. How could her war craft be outclassed by some little skiff? From the looks of it the thing had to be of some kind of Alliance grade weaponry and engines; though that didn't excuse it. She had let herself get sloppy it would seem. The thundercraker in her would never have been taken down like that. Ever. Laughter from the head of the ship only served to darken George's sour mood and she thought listlessly of just what Slam she would be taken to… if to a slam at all. That was the dangers of being a criminal in this day and age, no job security at all.

Slitting her eyes open she noticed that there was only her in the captives hold instead of the usual menagerie of captured dolts like herself. It seemed that these guys were after her and only her, thinking that their lives would be made if they caught the one and only Georgina Collins. Why they didn't go after the two that were higher ranking in the food chain than she was baffled her, they by all means could catch the guy under Riddick. Maybe even Riddick… A smirk quirked again on her lips as she thought of it being that bald guy strapped to the inside of this ship and not her. Anyone would be better but the irony would be fantastic if it had been him. Fate's humor was a bit off lately.

Boot falls hit her ears and she lowered her head, relaxing her body and looking as asleep as she possibly could. The rancid stench of bad food and ale assailed her senses and the doorframe to the head groaned at someone leaning heavily against it. She could sense their presence, it was hard not to when you were so keenly aware of every little facet of your newest prison; she didn't need to look up to know that their eyes were burning into her tired and lashed up body. Inspecting the prize, how lucky was she?

"I know ya ain't sleepin', darlin', so quit with the innocent act," George tensed very slightly before rolling her head to the side and regarding her merc viciously. He was of the tall variety, something she had only encountered once in a while with mercs since most of them seemed to be tiny with Napoleon complexes, with short cropped brown hair and deep green eyes she could almost see the human beneath the monster of a person he was. Any and all mercs were idiots, filth, and the scum of the universe, this one had just to prove it yet.

Chuckling in her chest George shifted against the wall again and let her eyes rove his form again, gauging his threat level. Bloodlust burned at her entire body, prickling the hairs on her arms and neck, and she could only imagine the look on his face when he was dying over the grate that she was forced to stand on, blood running down into the machinery underneath. "And why the hell should I talk to you?" she snarled lowly, slouching her body but aware of keeping her threatening presence up. If you didn't show that you were a badass even when chained up then mercs tended to get the wrong idea about the situation, namely that they could do anything they wanted and still keep their genitals.

"Look who's a smartass," the man murmured and came into the holding area holding a bottle of what smelled to be triple distilled synthetic vodka. George kept a wary eye on him as he lumbered over to her, his form as large and imposing as the likes of Richard B. Riddick. Fuck, that meant that hand to hand was not an option with this guy if he had the same insane reflexes and power as the fellow convict.

"I try," she snarled.

His green eyes ran over her body as blatantly as she had inspected him before landing on her arm wound. "I think you would want to talk so that you don't get infected," he held out the alcohol as if it were some kind of bartering chip.

George's sneer pulled at her lips before her eyes were flashing death and satire. Was this guy serious? "That all you got? I can handle an infection," she stated smugly, remembering that she still had a few years on her shots before anything bad could ever set in. Settling back again she barred her teeth at him like a wild animal, her fingers flexing against the cuffs holding her into place. "Why the hell should I talk anyway? Won't get me freed… and for all I know you'll use it to get more crimes on my head and increase my value… Fuck you!" she snapped and gave a threatening though useless lunge at him, her hair flying around her face in matted curls.

"Calm down, girlie, just wanted to have a conversation," he held up his hands in mock defense, laughing. He watched her shows of aggression with smug arrogance.

George scoffed at that. She regarded him again and sized him up. A gun was laying on his hip and his merc clothing were in a better state than most she had run into during her time, he smelled strongly of the drink in his hand but his speech wasn't slurred or his posture revealing drunkenness. This might be trouble… "Don't call me, girlie," she hissed. "If you want a damn conversation do it with your crewmates, not the one you just kidnapped…"

"Yer feisty," he observed before taking a swig of the drink. Wincing as it slid down his throat he shook his head before offering the bottle. "Wanna drink?"

"Piss off!" she snarled again, disbelieving that this guy was taking this abuse and doing nothing about it.

"Yer not very good company, Georgina," he commented blithely while leaning up on the wall beside her, taking another swig. She stared at him with a disgusted look, trying to kill him with her very mind but gave up when nothing happened. What was the good of being a killer if you couldn't kill when you needed to!?

"Hard to be good company chained to a wall," she bit back.

"True, true," he nodded sagely before slipping into silence, nursing on his bottle of cheap booze while the murderer beside him tried desperately to figure a way to get him out of there so she could begin to plot her escape.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

_The Wailing was taking far longer than anyone had thought; a good few years now and the war was still wagging full force between the two allied enemies. Wartime in this day and age was at most a five years, with the weapons that each and every nation possessed it was unwise to fight for too long and make the populous take the damage of a few people's stupidity. The campaign had been going on for ten years now, and though she had come in at the latter tail end of it that didn't mean that she was not ready for it to be over. But then again, what would happen when it ended? Where would that leave her? _

_Where would that also leave hundred of planets now decimated and used as pawns and chess pieces in this overly dramatic play out between the Alliance and the Resistance? Would help come in foreign aid or would they just be forgotten? And what about the hundreds of others that were blown up just for the sake of killing all those that were stationed on that rock? Killed without mercy… millions upon millions. War was a cruel creature that took everyone in its path to feed its voracious appetite and she was merely a pawn of it all. Something to be manipulated into doing what the higher ups wanted just for the fact that they were dangling something very important over her head. Her brother… information on how to get to him and possibly how to save him. It was amazing how quickly she had joined in after just about to die in that Slam, all in the hopes of saving her brother from the brainwash that was the necromongers. That didn't' mean she'd forgiven him, far from it, but she was willing to save him in order to kick his ass at a later date. _

_Georgina Collins was a thundercraker for the Alliance and was currently flying next to her main ship aboard her one seated skiff, hands on handlebars along with all of the others of her flank. They had been sent out to this squadron of the planet in hopes of finding the enemy embankment set up around two years ago; where the real troops feared to tread due to fire breathing lizard things the pawns were sent in to do the damage that was needed. The fact that she was the only surviving man of the original cluster had stopped weighing on her mind around two months ago and all that was left was getting out of here as fast as possible. She refused to let herself be used anymore._

_With her visor up on her helmet she felt the cool, humid breeze of the tropical planet from this high up in its temperamental atmosphere. Full body armor adorned her form, clasped tight into place with the designs of the Alliance over the hard surface; even her gloves had the familiar swirls and 'royal' signs. She was a fucking walking advertisement… She shifted in the seat and watched the top of the canopy beneath her, the thick, multiple of bramble tree leaves creating a green carpet and where the ground actually lay was a mystery to them all. It was said that the enemy was somewhere in this dense forest, a forest that had been left unchecked for fear of the creatures that lived within it. Luckily for the commander in the massive battle cruiser beside her they were expendable and when they recovered the little chips that were implanted into her neck and chest they would be able to find out just what had killed them all. All in the name of victory her ass… She wasn't willing to die just for the sake of letting the ones safe in that behemoth know what they were dealing with. Screw them; she was going to live, like she had for the last two years. _

_She could feel the excitement of the others flying near by her, the familiar hum of anti-gravitational engines filling her ears from under her thick, protective helmet. Blood was tinged in the air and the readiness for death was choking even someone of her caliber. How easily humans are corrupted, and she was no different. It was like leading wolves to a pack of deer where they were unleashed to do whatever was necessary to win, and George wasn't the type to let any opportunity like that pass her up… _

_Narrowing her sights ahead of her as the clouds began to drift lower and lower beneath them, closing in on the tropical jungle beneath, she shifted and felt that familiar anxiety wash over her. Something pulling and roaring inside of her, something that they had tried to squash even on Artemis. It was in human nature to want to fight and to battle others of your kind, to prove your dominance over them, to gain what they had achieved through their own struggles only to have you rip it away, it was the glorious darkness that existed within all mankind's races across the universe. The fact that Artemis had stifled that had made them all a sitting duck. Pushing thoughts of her old home away with a growl she revved her engine and felt a dark satisfaction when others of her flank did the same and started to hoot and holler from within their masks and helmets, ready for the order. Animals, all of them, every one of them including her had reduced themselves to guard dogs being unleashed and lead to their deaths. _

_Though at least now she was the barrage captain of the thunder's… that had to account for something. Maybe she could use that for later. With a loud bang the main artillery of the warship by them launched a flare of deep, crimson red. All at once the signal was given out and the ships dropped down into a straight nose dive after their leader who had snapped her visor down and was plummeting down towards the coming leaves. Spinning the vessel around she launched the heat blades and cut through the brambles and fluttering greenery around her, diving straight into the dank darkness of the forest and hearing the similar noises of her squad doing the same all around her. _

_Trained though they weren't she had reigned in those that were more wild than even her with the threats of leaving them in the field to be torn apart by the enemy or shooting them herself on the battle frontier. She had given formations and ranking and now they were their own small army, and it had only taken a good year to make it this way. They had lost many, but now the life of a thundercraker was much longer, it wasn't just one battle you were expected to live through, but several if you knew how to actually handle the machine and the guns. If you did it right you could live as long as she had. _

_Turning out of the spin she rushed down the trunk of the large mangrove like tree she was speeding against, watching as the darkness of what she thought was the ground come closer and closer. She pulled up just as she would have hit the leaf covered dirt, narrowly avoiding large, winding roots that surfaced and went back under the ground like great grey dolphins, and began to go along the top of the underbrush, switching to silent mode for stealth and feeling the lurch that came with the decreased power. The others had just come through behind her, breaching the thick leave canopy, and had fallen into line just as they did the same as her, rushing through the trunks and trees while keeping their eyes on the leader. George pulled the blades back in and took in her surroundings through the blur of the speed around her, dark with only a few shafts of light here and there she had no choice but to turn on the six main lights on the front head of the single seat, gritting her teeth with the choice. _

_She cleared the ground and was abruptly skimming over the top of a large bog filled with dead logs and the same massive behemoths of plants reaching up to smother the single moon. Vines hung from the trees in eerie, dark green and mossy veins, and there almost seemed to be a pulse to the area around her. Turning here and there slowly, bringing the procession of easily twenty thunder's she began the sweep. Beside her were her two head commanders, the ones that had lived longest next to her, a man named Bryan and a Synthiod by the borrowed name of Justith-or Justin, the thing did have a malfunction in the speech department. _

_The calm was deafening and disarming, making all the hairs on her armored arms stand up at attention. Breathing hard within the confines of the tight clothing she shifted and turned again, gazing out across the simmering pool that just teemed with life under the surface. She could tell that they were being watched… but by what and by whom? Should she risk speaking to her commanders and alerting the rest of them that there was something in the bog? Could they feel it? Could she afford that danger that that would bring onto them all? Or could she risk her team being caught off guard by something attacking them from the rear or side? Swearing in her head George hissed under her breath into the microphone that was pressed intimately against her cheek through her helmet, debating the choice. Radio frequencies were easy to pick up and she was unfamiliar with the terrain. Enemies could very easily be waiting in the marshes and waiting to just hear a single blurb of a transmission, then even with their skiffs they were sitting ducks. Especially with eight new recruits that hadn't had the training yet. _

_A ripple caught her eye and the sound of something slick slipping through the water before it became deathly silent once more. Snapping her head in that direction George bit her lower lip, narrowing her eyes and watching the pattern that the shimmering water made in her vehicles light. Holding out a hand with two fingers held up the others halted, she could tell by the lacking of air pressure around her, and George went on a few feet in front, hovering over the water with anticipation. _

_A roar and a shot of fire suddenly came at her right and she barely had time to blanch and look desperately to her right as the flames came barreling down on her. Shouting and opening of gun turrets met her ears over the screaming red and blaze hurtling but soon she was engulfed and her ship disappeared from view. _

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Riddick stuck the very tip of his tongue out of his mouth as he focused intently upon the task he was given to by himself. The small twisting piece of metal he had managed to pry from his bed boards was clasped between his large fingers as he worked diligently. Sliding it within the lock and watching as the long appendage disappeared within the wiring and workings that he had managed to silently bust open he prayed that this time it would work.

He nearly shouted his frustration when it was met with yet another obstruction within the small confines, yet another twist or turn that he would have to bend, with his damn teeth, to get to the main circuit. How chains had become so tech savvy was beyond him… Though luckily it still was not anything out of his reach; it would just take another hour at this rate. An hour that he might not have, stupid fucking Necromonger's and their fancy shit. Why not just have regular metal and locks where he could get out in his sleep? No. Damn it. Biting down on the small twist of wire he bent it somewhere between the very front and just before his fourteenth made bend before inserting and trying again.

He must have looked like an idiot, sitting there with his legs crossed and hunched over his shackles and confident that the guards would avoid looking in at all costs. He had conducted an experiment with them earlier, where he had reached through and snagged one of their uniforms with the tip of his fingers before growling like an animal at him and glaring with his silver eyes in a way that proved to be very menacing. The guy had pissed his pants and had threw himself away from the door as quickly as possible, spluttering to his partner who swiftly had shocked the damn door. But it had been worth the scorch marks on his thighs and palms; now he knew that these guys were just as easy to mind fuck as any other human. It made his job easier. Riddick had made sure that he had spent the next few hours after that messing with them enough that they left a good three feet between themselves and the cage door; giving him plenty of room with which to work his magick.

And so he found himself sitting on the cold hard marble floor, picking at the exposed innards of his shackles and trying to find the main breaker. His neck was starting to ache from being bent over so extremely but as his silver eyes narrowed in the limited light of his cell he could feel the familiar exhilaration of being dared. There was something about being in this kind of setting that provided him a challenge. They were saying he couldn't do it by putting him in chains and bindings, saying he couldn't leave. He didn't do well with people telling him what to do, that's why the law didn't like him and why he was even in this shit, so tying him up and telling him he couldn't escape was a bad move. It just gave him time to think and plot before he made his big move. It was the same rush he got whenever he was fighting or whenever he was back in a Slam.

He loved it when a plan came together and he would not let this be one of the plans where it all went on the fan. When the wire finally broke through something, the circlets around his wrists giving off a faint snap sound, he let out a small hissing noise. A smirk pulling at Riddick's lip was all that showed his arrogance at accomplishing such a task. After that click there was a spark that ran up from where the wires disappeared into the smooth metal of the encasing all the way to where he had made the hole with his teeth. Jolted by the small amount of electricity the bald convict momentarily had to close his eyes to keep from making any other noise, pain momentarily flaring through his body. It passed quickly and when he next glanced down he had gotten what he had been searching for, the cuffs had fallen open and his sore wrists that had been imprisoned for over a day now were free. He cocked his head to look at his ankles, which were joined by the long iron chain to his wrists, to find them open now as well and lying useless on the floor.

Now he was free again. A swelling of pride ran through him and Riddick momentarily basked in it before he came to a slow standing, rolling his shoulders and flexing his fingers, enjoying the rush of blood that came with it. But soon he brought himself back to reality, realizing now that the planning had just begun. Sure he was able and capable again and willing to take on whoever stepped through that door, especially should it be Vaako, but he had nothing to fight with other than his bare hands. And considering that the last time he had taken on these guys he had his shiv's and a few guns and still lost he wanted to at least have some form of weapon before being taken down so readily. Even the toughest opponent's could be taken down with the right strategy, all he had to do was think.

Riddick took a seat upon his bed, the mattress groaning under him momentarily, before setting his chin on his fingers. Staring at the wall opposite of him he gritted his teeth and tried to rationalize this situation. He was in a ship with an unknown number of necromonger converts that were all almost certainly trained in how to use their dark matter weaponry and that did not include tasers and tranquilizer guns either. Out manned and out gunned things were not looking good, but again there was always a solution, somewhere, somehow he would find a way out of here. Lucky for him it did not appear that Vaako or any really high ranking men were on the ship this time. If it had been the second in command that was in charge then he would have come down to gloat by now, or grovel, whichever one that his wife had decided to send him to do. Then there was the issue of Dame Vaako and just what he was going to do with her should he be taken back to the head of the fleet again. He was still in control. He could have her killed for treason and have Vaako demoted back to a foot soldier for being pussy whipped, but that was if he had to be taken back.

Plan for everything he always liked to say. He didn't want to think of a world where he had to let himself be brought back to that damn place, however it had to be done. They had to dock soon, that much he knew. He himself had been on the way to a system, and had only been a few days from reaching it, so they had to be at least as low as he had been on fuel and supplies if not lower. Chasing someone left very little time to restock on things, so chances are if he was lucky he could find a way to get off of the ship when the rest were out and about on planet. That was assuming that they were close to the system though, and it also was assuming that he had only been out for a few hours and not maybe four days; that left plenty of time to arrive, call ahead, and get the stuff onboard as quickly as possible. It was all he had at this point though.

So… wait for a few cycles and if he did arrive at the planet or even one of them then he was set, for he had already started to devise that particular coming together. However, if they weren't, then he had to find a weak spot in the walls, electrical for his quadrant of the ship, air supply, kill the guards with a make shift weapon from his bed, the numbers of what he could do were staggering. Numbers of what would be wise and successful however were dwindling the more he thought them out. He had plenty of time, and Riddick was a very patient man.


	20. Chapter 20 Can't escape

**Chapter twenty: **

**Can't escape**

**Warning! If you have EVER read any of my chapters… you know… VIOLENCE is ahead boys and girls. :P**

The ship landed with a thundering lurch, docking with as much grace as a giraffe in a small box, and jarring the convict stashed away within the confines of the vessel to slowly come into the waking world. Light, unbidden and garish, came streaming in from the long corridor where the head of the ship was located at, bursting through the shielding of the main windows. Burning at the killers eyes they winced and turned away, snarling under their breath with as many words as they could muster. Scurrying and the beeping noises that came with docking in a port of any kind filled the bowls of the ship, rocking off of the metal walls and bouncing around incessantly. They crew were running around with a practiced sort of chaos, a detrimental frenzy that would get the job done faster than any other conceived way.

Whirling of gears and the all too comforting hum of the engines ceased and the vibrations against the prisoners back faded away, taking with it the odd way it soothed the sore muscles in their back. With the ship powering down and the lights around them fading the crew began to mutter and whisper to themselves, as if afraid their quarry would hear. It was too late, after all that pitiful landing had done more than its share to wake her from her fitful and incredibly light slumber. Rolling her head to the side her brown eyes glared with that dull brown hue towards where her captors were located.

Seeing only one in the doorframe the glint of sunlight, most likely from twin suns from the intensity, on the barrel of a powerful hundred magnum assault riffle; as well as a splattering of other weapons it was no wonder she had been taken down. Just how these guys were so well armed when they were probably being paid actual pennies from the Alliance after all of their fees was beyond her… The one within sight ducked back within the dark hallway, giving the accursed light free reign to fall over her matted and dirty form that was covered in an almost visible haze of filth and stink. Never since her time in the slam last had she felt so filthy, and she had no doubt that as the golden rays caressed her skin she looked like all hell had vomited on her. The muttering was continuing only a slightly more fevered pitch, as if some great argument that had been going on for a while now was taking place once more.

It was no use, no matter how much George strained her ears she was not privy to their whispered words, so she allowed herself to lean back against the now still and increasingly heated wall from the touch of sunshine outside. Chancing a look to the chains that held her bound to this hell she noted with small satisfaction that her wrists were still raw and bleeding from continuous pulling and fighting. Judging from the fact that there was actual sun light, and not just some artificial bull crap used down in the Triple's, and that the sounds coming through the would be sound proofed haul were not that of screams and shots being fired, she extremely doubted that she was within the belly of a new burning pit. No… a sense of irony flooded her being again as she flexed her fingers and felt the all too present chill of the metal on her injured skin. The fools had stopped on world. Closing her sight off she listened with a small grin creasing her dried lips, her heart pounding in her throat at the thought of just one mistake and she was free. All she needed, all she really needed, was a dose of pure luck.

If she had her Lady on her side then they would have stopped on her designated planet before all of this shit went down. If she was to have her way then she was home free once she got out of these things. Sliding her eyes open to little more than slits against the intrusive rays the red miasma and pure tunnel vision that came with the anger tingling at every fiber of her being and soul took over and only thoughts of one thing filled her mind. Murder, crimson… her daggers or any daggers, hell a gun would do; as long as they all died.

Oh yes this was a long time coming. Excruciating had the last few days been, minutes had bled into hours and hours to days until it had felt like the weeks and months ticked by and she was still in desperate isolation and ill wanted captivity. They would all see just what a mind like hers could concoct in the revenge department when left to ferment for far too long. Georgina Collins was not considered a _crazed_ psychopathic serial killer for nothing; there were some basis for all of the hype after all.

The heavy footsteps on the grating signaled the entrance of not just one, as usual, of the crew members but three of them. Jeremy, the man that had seemed to form some kind of sick attachment to his captive, and the other two nameless soldiers for the 'good fight' came sauntering into view. All of them armed heavily to the teeth.

Jeremy came up to her while the other two hung back, one other remaining in the head to undoubtedly keep an eye on the ship and on her. Cocking his head to the side he observed her blatantly, strung up like some freshly caught road kill, a smirk pulled arrogantly at the sides of his lips. "Never thought I'd catch ya, girl," he commented thoughtfully, pursing his cruelly thin lips.

Laughter bubbled at the back of her throat and she couldn't help the biting scoff that forced its way from her throat. Lowering her head to where her eyes were undoubtedly glaring up at him she said in a low and even tone that was unnerving compared to her usual furious tirades at the man, "Posturing and posing will do you nothing here…" the old mind set that she had become accustomed to before her time with Riddick came slamming down. The shift from human to killer was so easy, it was an almost audible click within her mind, something that switched off and then flicked on something else. Oh it was glorious. Clicking her teeth momentarily George watched the furrowing in her enemies brows. "Hope you enjoyed the dream boys…" was all that she stated before climbing her neck back up and resting it against the unforgiving surface behind.

"Getting cryptic on me, Georgina?" George tried not to let her bristling at being called her full first name show… Jeremy sneered discomfortingly when he noticed the defiant flare of her nostrils despite her best attempts. Leaning forwards he pressed the business end of a small pistol to her chin, chuckling when she didn't so much as flinch. She knew she was worth much more alive, a cold body in this kind of bounty incident was a no go and immediately cut her worth in half. She could spit on this guys eye ball and call him all the names under the sun and she was still good, which was fine by her… since he was going to pay for his actions in spades.

George merely eyed the piece momentarily before spouting off, "Pretty impressive for being empty."

She was hoping for a better response from the man that held her against the wall in irons. She had hoped for a scowl, a wince, a walk away in a huff kind of reaction, that was the kind she was used to, but all she got from Jeremy was that same disarming smirk and that same odd glimmer in his eyes that had her every nerve ending on alert. Something about this mercenary was not right. Something about this whole situation was not right. With the barrel of a gun pressing against the curve of her jaw and her eyes locked firmly with the leader of the ship, issued in a silent contest, she had a familiar sense that it was just like back in the Slam. He was almost exactly like Riddick…

Wrinkling her nose in distaste though training her other facial features to remain neutral she looked at the gun again then at him. "We both know you won't fire that. My worth is already cut by… ten percent for the hole you put in my arm, much more damage and you'll be lucky to get paid at all."

That did it. Something flared behind the passive green eyes, something monstrous and dark like the thing that lived within her and whispered in her ear. Oh yes… something was very wrong with this man. She could recognize a fellow animal and beast when she saw one, and he was almost as bad as they came. Snarling and showing off almost fang like incisors at her he ripped his gun from its pressing position, his obvious attempt at intimidation done. Turning on his heel he sauntered from the room towards the end of the haul where the hatch laid, signaling his men to come along with him.

George didn't watch after them for long, only while the door whined and groaned as it slid open and let in yet more damn sunlight of the world and docking center outside. Fresh air rushed into her nose and the scents and sounds of the planet they had landed on came crashing down around the tied up convict. To hear such noises of freedom only spurred on the ragging of the creature within her mind… She didn't look at his back, huge and impressive like that of another mountain that she knew quite intimately, but instead turned and focused her attention on the one they had left behind. A sickening twist of her lips and her brown eyes deepening to an almost black color and it was to begin. That was the problem with such small merc groups… a lot could go wrong when you split up into such small fractions.

XXXXXXXXXXXXX

Richard B. Riddick was an escape artists as well as a killer and thief, so it was only natural that he had gotten out of his bindings some how and was now sliding along the walls of the ship he had been captured in. With his goggles pulled up against his forehead and the silver of his eyes shinning in the limited red lighting of emergency power he was perfectly at home and in the advantage. How they had ever thought they could hold him was baffling. Chains didn't work on him, as a certain bounty hunter had so eloquently stated once before his demise, and they were not going to start doing anything anytime soon. Restriction meant he couldn't do what he wanted, be where he wanted, freedom wasn't his when he was trussed up somewhere with little more than a meal and a horse bit to look forwards to. So whenever someone like Riddick was faced with the prospect of being held against his will he fought back like no tomorrow, usually resulting in many deaths and a new ship to call his own.

Only this time he knew he couldn't take on the entire ship. There were too many and far too well armed for him to even think of attempting killing all of the necromongers aboard this vessel. His usual patterns had to be deviated from; he had to actually make it off the ship alive rather than a heaping bloody mess on the floor.

Getting out of his cell had proved simple enough now that he dwelled on it. He had, honestly, thought that it would be much more difficult to break out of yet another Necromonger holding room; but it had been almost too easy. He had waited, sulking and biding his time, in the darkest corner of his room with his protective eyewear covering his sensitive orbs, mulling over his plans on just what to do and where to go once he was free. Assuming that he was indeed on the planet Epimethus then he knew just where to go, a small little Inn on the outskirts of the main docking city of Zather that was more than welcoming to one such as Riddick. If he wasn't he had a plan as well, he had one for just about any case in which he could find himself in, such as if he was on a very well lit station or merc mother ship instead of a planet he would have to slink around on the new vessel and find an escape ship before the others found him. Or even worse if he was within the bowls of the Necromonger lead ship rebuilt then he was screwed… but considering that the place didn't reek of death and decay then he was pretty damn sure he wasn't there.

No… When the ship had landed and the hatch doors for the recon and supply team to go out and gather stock he had caught a very faint waft of fresh, powerfully oxygenized air. The kind of crispness that only came with dense flora; that spelt good things for the killer. It was an excellent thing that his cage had been located only a few hallways from the exit and his bid for relief from this oppressing atmosphere.

So when he had been offered his chance to get out of there when one of the guards foolishly opened the door to take him to the commanding officer aboard the craft Riddick had taken it. Waiting in the darkest corner he could have found he used the coils of machinery that had bound his wrists to grab the man by the neck and muffle his cries at the same time, snapping his bones with a simple twist. With a gratifying thud the body had fallen to the floor and the other guard had come in to see what the noise was only to be met with the business end of the fallen man's riffle, his head now having a very large caved in hole where his face should have been. That was when Riddick had taken his bid and gotten to where he was now, with a gun on his hip and another on his back, the cold metal of knives against his palms, and the electricity shut off thanks to his attack on a central cord. Even if he had not cut off the power supply from the lights and main drives he was confident that the enemy had known about his escape; this was merely leveling the playing field.

Sliding along the wall and feeling the chill of the deathly metal behind him he kept flat to the surface, his eyes narrowing at the way before him. Though he was alone in the corridor he could hear the others just feet from the corner he was going to turn, breathing, running, feet pounding heavily against the hard flooring that covered the ship. Silence was his friend as he shifted and drew his gun cautiously from his hip, flipping a switch and allowing the dark matter pistol to begin to charge, estimating his time before the others turned the corner. His heart was pounding steadily in his ears and the rush of both coming death and fresh air were searing through his impatient body. Just a little longer… he had waited for nearly four sleepless cycles, just a little longer and he would be in the streets and able to escape as he had always before.

The footsteps of the enemy were growing louder and were almost deafening in the seasoned convicts mind. He licked his lips, his eyes narrowing before drawing from the wall and lowering down into a crouch. He was lucky. No one else on this ship could see in the dark and from the lack of powerfully pungent stench they had only maybe one or two seers here, he was in the advantage. Just as his body was tensing and his mind building up into an almost frantic pace of excitement and anxiety the first man came barreling around the corner. Lining him up in his sights quickly Riddick pulled the small, carved trigger and felt the disturbing jolt of dark matter energy being released from the barrel and reserves of the weapon. Watching the swirling power beam towards the now stunned looking necromonger, too stunned to speak, it seemed as if the black mass sucked in any and all light from around it.

His chest exploded into a fine mist of red before crumpling over with a cry of shock and agony just as Riddick was up and drawing out his other weapons, the two hand knives that each of his respective victims earlier had been present with. The others had heard him, had seen the death of their comrades, and were now coming around the corner in a mass of three abreast and three long, ready to take down the smirking killer. Riddick lived for this kind of shit sometimes, he really did…

XXXXXXXXXXXXXX

George hissed when she arched her back completely off of the wall, closing her eyes tightly and willing her lungs not to expel the coming scream. Her teeth dug into her lower lip, causing blood to trickle onto her tongue and down her chin, all the while the strain on her wrists was increasing. She had developed something in her time against this damnable wall. There was a chink in the right shackle, one that made it around five centimeters too large, giving her a weakness to exploit, to get to the outside… Her chest heaved as her ankles nearly gave out against the pressure on them as well, her head hitting hard against the wall to will herself not to make any noise to alert her captor as her bones steadily began to groan. There was only one way out; and though she would have preferred another one there was absolutely no other choice. It had to be done.

Taking in a final gasp of air she lifted up onto her toes sharply, abruptly, and this caused the desired effect. With a loud snap her bones gave in and the joint that came before her hands and after her forearms came undone stoutly. Her eyes opened up wide and a shuddering, powerful pain screamed down her arms and spine all the way to tingle into her toes. She had to stop herself from passing out, the familiar cold wash of shock coming over her and the starting of a sheet of sweat was breaking out all over her body. Head swimming in the rush of chemicals from her brain she slumped down and grunted when her fingers twisted and her arms hung at an awkward angle. George allowed herself to take a breather, staring at the floor with glazed over eyes while the fire of victory burned inside of her gut, keeping the urge to black out at bay even if the black dots of unconsciousness were dancing around her orbs.

Luckily she hadn't bit clear through her lip during that episode and when her head was finally clear enough to form clear thoughts she glanced to her now greening wrist with a sardonic smile on her lips. Bending her fingers into an almost triangle she shifted her arm to a certain angle, her wrist bending at a degree that before would have been impossible, before pulling it gingerly from the now useless hold. This was what she had been waiting for. She couldn't take the whole ship on her own, not all four heavily armored mercs; though that they had been so stupid as to leave her alone with just one of them she couldn't have asked for better. With her arm free she shifted and rose off of the wall yet again, setting her dislocated wrist between her and the metal, before coming crashing down atop of it.

The bone was reset and the joint rejoined with its socket and that shock of pain went through her again and she had no choice but to let out a small, pathetic whimper. God had she only had a different option than this masochism she would be a happy murderer. She didn't waste time pining over something she didn't have however and was soon twisting her torso and working on her other binding, her brown eyes cold and hard. She did not wish to repeat the process for all of her limbs, especially since that would make her incredibly weakened and drained for the ensuing bout for her release, so instead she grabbed the main lock and began to pull on it, grimacing as it rubbed raw on the already open wounds of her tender limb. The sting of bacteria entering into the angry red blemish as well as the shifting of the steadily weakened metal ring was all that filled her mind, pushing aside the shivering waves of shock and blacking out.

She had been working on it since she had been taken captive. Having run into these kinds of locks many a time before she knew that most of the time they did a shitty job of putting them into the ships main circuits behind her, fearing that if they muddied it up too much that they would have further malfunctions in both the haul and the holding system. Too many wires could corrode each other and end up with a dead ship and dead crew. And as before over the last few days she had been thrashing and pulling with all of her might to get it to disconnect steadily, having heard the tell tale snapping and the shuddering of the cold rings around her. The only issue was that it had been centered into just one of the cuffs, meaning she had been given absolutely no other direction with which to go. Though the pain running up and down her arm from using the newly dislocated and relocated hand was enough to make her lightheaded George bit here lip and continued to pull and wiggle the metal ring.

Snapping was heard from within the wall behind her and the scent of strong electrical smoke. Good… that meant that a few of the wires had been ripped free and that the plastic about them had melted from the extreme heat. Burn the thing down, yes, watch it burn in crimson glory… Clunk! With a twisted satisfied smirk on her face George watched as the cursed metal fell limply from the wall, giving her a good two inches with which to remove herself and then work the same on her feet. And they had thought to hold her in standard grade shit? Please, this stuff was a dime a dozen and mass manufactured, of course they were going to cut corners and create weak spots.

It just took someone fraught like herself to find those spots.

Bending over and feeling each and every vertebra pop and shiver from moving after so long in position she took hold of the remaining two and started the same process. Hatred clouded her mind. Red was filling her vision like it had time and time again since she had been caught with only one thing pictured in her brain to keep her going. The sight of the mercs that had caught her dead, sliced open with intestines spilling out onto the ground and red draining everywhere like a river.

With a great heave she pulled the remaining contraptions from her and fell to her knees from the wall, her feet fast asleep and blood pulsing gratefully through the now mobile limbs. The loud clang she had made when making her less than graceful landing had stirred the merc lying in wait within the head when George heard the scuffling of heavy soled boots moving around and the clanking of a powerful gun. Pulling herself up quickly she fled to flatten herself up against a corner shrouded deep in the limited light of the haul, her heart pounding in her ears.

Every single muscle was in use again and her form was both crying out in resistance to the sudden change and crowing in rejuvenation from the return of normal blood flow. It was a confusing and heady mixture that wasn't aided when the heavily armed guard came into the haul with his gun on the ready, his shifty little black eyes glancing around hurriedly. Adrenaline was coursing fantastically through her veins, enough to make her forget the caked on blood from her wrists and scabbed over shoulder injury and the fine film of filth that covered her entire body. She felt like she could just charge this guy and take him down. But she knew better than to let the hormones and chemicals within her mind allow her to do such a stupid thing; her barehanded against three loaded and ready to go guns as well as several knives located on various spots of his body did not bode well for her bodily contact. Or her life in general. George had to come up with a plan and fast as his eyes fell upon her now empty and tattered former prison and his orbs widened to the size of dinner plates, the knuckles on gripping his riffle turning white from either fear or shock.

The corner was cramped and an impossibly sharp angle. Spotting him coming towards her, backing up into the room now with his sight on and holding his weapon at the true ready, laser sweeping around the craft like a red beam of death, she sank down low to the ground and crouched in the darkness, waiting. Surprise would have to be key here… one wrong move and she would end up dead on the ground with a hole where her lungs should be and everything else located in her chest. Not in three years since the epic escape from Brigitus had she felt such anxiety and been so worked up before a fight; it was the battles for your life and that held your freedom on a wire hair trigger that seemed to be the most pulse pounding.

His boots were sliding along the grating and making the tell tale groan of leather soles, thick and heavy with combat. She wondered how much bloodshed those boots bottoms had seen… and how much more they would if she failed. Sun rays dancing over his form, clearing over his shoulders and causing beams to fall into pure holes of light onto the hauls immaculate metal surface. She watched him warily, holding her breathing in and letting out in only in streams of long, controlled exhales, and calculated in. Fingers gripping into the cold steel under her, her shoulders tense and taught to the point of agony adding to the scab that adorned her body, Georgina was almost in awe of just how sick her mind must seem to a sane person. The folding in the mercs combat fatigue bottoms caught her eye as did the favorite weakness in the back of the knees and just under the caps, all the way down to the thickly covered ankle tendon. With no sharp instruments one could not be choosy about where their punch or kick would lie, what stab…

The laser came scanning just over her head, mere millimeters really from her out of control frizzed and oily red hair, and she stopped any and all motion of body. It stayed there, suspicious, and with the sun behind the merc she could only make out the colored outline of his form while the rest was as pitch as were she was hiding. Gripping harder into the metal until digits and flesh were crying out in torture, heart pounding in head and the scent of perspiration rang stank in the air, from either her or the guard she couldn't tell… But when his laser turned around the corner and was now examining the entrance to the sleeping quarters, his gun turning with him and his shoulder hunched over the large weapon, Georgina knew she was safe. As safe as you could get when you were in a room barehanded with a man who had a class A high powered riffle with what looked to be a combustion round model. Shifting George heard him shift, watching the legs cased within clothing move forwards and then stop, once again sweeping the room in a seemingly fruitless manner.

The poor man probably didn't even know that he was being stalked. She just prayed that the sun wouldn't move dramatically any time soon for this would prove to be a game of waiting. Intense waiting. The kind that she was horrible at. Licking her lips George slinked to where her knees were against her breasts, pushing them into her chest, while she readied herself. He would have to come closer to get to the quarters deck, and off to her right was the med bay. Further down was the exit, but he would know she had not gone there. The doors made too much noise to just up and walk out not to mention warning bells on merc ships went off when the door was opened, as a built in precaution; if all of that hadn't been in existence even then she wouldn't have taken it. There was a grudge here. She wanted him dead, she wanted them all to suffer…

He moved closer and she could almost smell the fear and tension rolling off of him. The merc was, perhaps, within good launching distance. By all means she could attack him here and now, jump at him and land against him, knock him down, punch him in the throat or temple multiple times before she heard that marvelous and fantastic crunching noise that came with death from beating… But no. There were too many variables within such a strategy. He was heavier than her since he was male and by all means had a higher center of gravity which meant he could stabilize himself mid fall like Riddick had shown to be able to; there was also the fact of his gun, he could bring it up mid charge and knock her down before firing off a round into her forehead which would not be conducive to her escape; then there was also the fact of that she had come up with a plan and her impatience would be the thing that would make or break it.

Anticipation was a salty mixture of her own breath and sweat that was rolling between her lips, tingling all of her senses and making her vision like that of a tunnel. All things vanished but her coming victim, the feel of the wall behind her was cold, harsh, hard, and unforgiving, her hearing was filled with the throbbing of her own heart and the enemies breathing as he halted from another step to sweep the room in a paranoid way. She could sense his confusion, his terror at her being loose, and everything that made him… vulnerable. It was against someone cool and collected, placid, like a fellow killer that she found her challenge in. When you were afraid you lost control. When you were afraid… you could react very irrationally and lose your life quite quickly than if you were calm.

Yet again she was thankful that she had lost her sanity. The tinge of fear had left her in only the most extreme of cases… and this was not one of them.

He slid forwards again, the noise grating on her ears and making her wince, but now… oh now he was but mere inches from the corner and the sun was coming through his legs and hitting the base of her foot. Stopping once again he turned around, his breathing little more than harried puffs, before he finally felt it. He was close enough now that he could feel her and sense her right next to him, her own breathing beating against his clothing and when he glanced down into the corner that he had thought for sure was empty he spotted the revealed dirt encased cover of her boot. He caught it all too late for he was pounced upon in a heart beat, her hands coming to the back of his neck and wrapping around one of his biceps, bending him over in his shock and cold rushing horror. With the hard snap of the top of her foot against the back of his knee he was sent crumpling back onto the grating, his head hitting hard and spots filling his gaze from the impact.

George momentarily was struck on her side with his riffle butt, smacking her hard and causing a rear of agony to rain down her back, but it was all in vein. Grabbing the end of the weapon and yanking it from the now dazed merc she was on him in an instant, her boot falling down harshly into the center of his ribcage and down upon the diaphragm. A scream came from his throat before it was muffled by the riffles barrel being shoved down his throat, a twisted and sinister sneer stretching over the red headed killers face.

His eyes bulged out, staring at her in absolute fear… oh she remembered that look. She loved that look like an old boyfriend, came back to it again and again, it haunted her dreams and made her feel the oddest sensation in the pit of her stomach. Words were not needed in this moment as she shifted to stand over him with her finger idly pressed against the trigger delicately and yet ready at any moment. Should he even so much as move, so much as twitch wrong, he was finished. Well, he was finished to begin with, but someone as sadistic as George couldn't let something like this pass her up. Revenge; the plot toiled over and refined for so many days now, was finally hers. Though this boy of a mere twenty one by the looks of it was not her intended, not the one that was the lead, therefore he was a mere grunt and hardly worth the time that she would invest into Jeremy.

"I'm going to kill you, kid… kill you, take your arsenal, and then murder your little buddies as well. You really got into shit with me, mercenary, messed with the wrong fucking woman," she whispered. Tears were welling up in his shimmering black eyes but her boot was already up, shoving the gun down harder and to the point where blood came bubbling out of the sides of his lips, a faint tearing heard. Slamming her foot down into the middle of his neck and smashing in his Adam's Apple in she saw his face go ashen with pain, that all too familiar look of surprise before being replaced with trails of tears. Red oozed from out of his injured neck and from his mouth, pooling under him and running down the metal sidings of the bottom of the ship.

With just as much abruptness as before Georgina's finger pulled on the trigger hard. The bang was deafening and the scent of powder filled the haul just as blood flew up in thick droplets. The back of the kids head was shattered, his brains flowing everywhere and even sticking to her boots and pants, splattering on the walls and filling up the once pristine ship with carnage. His cry of sudden death became the gurgle of death as his body went limp and life left in a thick crimson blow. George stared down at what would have been face that was now little more than a grotesque painting of ripped bone, teeth, and scorched away flesh and skin. She could see all the way through the now red coated grating under the body and when she noted sparks flying from liquid hitting onto the mechanical parts beneath her smile became even more twisted.

She bent down and made quick work of his daggers, pulling them up and off of his holsters before slapping them into her belt loops. Guns and ammo came with her as well before George was satisfied enough to stand up and once more gaze lovingly down at her handiwork. This… was how a kill was supposed to feel.

Turning as if it were nothing she rolled her shoulders and sauntered off of the dead towards her freedoms latch. She wasn't a good person, she had never pretended to be… and she never would be.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Riddick's feet pounded against the rooftops that spotted the city they had landed in. Pumping his arms to go as fast as his bulky form could he chanced a glance behind him to see yet again what had been there a few minutes ago when he had looked before. Necromongers, around five of them, were tailing him with their own weapons drawn and chasing after him, even shooting at him when they were on solid enough footing. His attention was re-diverted to the task at hand when the ledge to the roof came beneath his feet and he was leaping through the air with his arms flailing in a circle to keep his gravity where it needed to be, the opposite edging just yards away.

With a heavy thud Riddick landed with a slight stagger before he was off again, puffing out his breath in great heaves. He could hear the clangs and clamor of armor behind him like a storms thunder, pushing him onwards, refusing to be caught again. If he was caught again then he would be put under even worse conditions and set off in a direction he wasn't sure of; his chance of escape would be next to nothing. The buildings passed by in little more than blurs of adobe and brick, lines of clothing hanging out to dry passing under his feet as he cleared yet another roof and grunting at the force of his landing. Air thick with moisture from the lush and tropical atmosphere clung to his sweating body that was streaked with his own blood and the red of his enemies.

Chill hit into his nostrils, stinging down into his chest and lungs as the fugitive panted hard. Skidding quickly to the side he pushed off an abrupt and harsh turn to the right, launching himself down a few stories onto the roof of a much smaller building. Swears of his pursers flitted up to his hearing but he ignored them in favor of the murmur of the people below him. Freedom was as good as his… Spices and flavor, commerce and the laughter of children, all signs of a robust economy and that meant plenty of places to hide. All he had to do was get away from the Necroshit's and he was good.

Riddick was already jumping from the roof with sure steps, leaping the easily eighteen feet with confident footing, by the time the others were on his landing. He hit the shade he'd been aiming for, the fabric buckling under him and letting out a loud groan as he slid down the smooth, silken surface at a break neck speed. Flinging himself off of it he felt the rush of falling through the air once more, the barreling of air over his hot skin and the thudding of his heart soundly in his gut. The ground came up under him shortly after her had taken off, his feet hitting the clay hard as well as his hands flying under him to catch his weight from slamming his face down, causing a film of dust to cast off around him. The sting in his palms informed him that he had scrapped the flesh harshly but he didn't give a fuck at this point, the adrenaline was pounding too hard in his veins and the voices were screaming in his ears to get up and run. So that's just what he did, pushing himself up with a great heave and puffing out dirt from off of his lips-red clay littering his body now in a fine silt-Riddick was up and running again with slightly less than grace.

That should put some distance between him and the necro's… it was a damn good thing that their weapons, though still firing at him, were useless at such spaces now. Turning a corner and pushing his way out into the littered market place scattered with people in brightly colored clothing he made his way pumping down the cobbled street with force. He knew better than to slow down now, if anything he needed to go faster than his quickly tiring body was letting him. If he slowed down now they would catch up to him. If he slowed down now he was as good as caught.

Weaving through booths and cutting down another alleyway across the way, turning sharply and winding his way around wooden fences and through hanging laundry, Riddick could only hope and pray that the necromongers were far behind him and were just now getting into the main road as he had been. Latching onto rough brick work of a poor apartment complex he whipped himself around another corner and shot forwards again, his chest burning and the stinging of bile and blood of his agonized lungs searing at the back of his throat. He was just about to cut across another street and into the side streets before him when a something caught his eye and made him stop dead in his tracks. Coming skidding around the corner and into his own alleyway was the form of a haggard and filthy looking woman.

She bent over and gripped onto her knees, hacking and wheezing from running while spitting up a dark tinged spit onto the ground beneath both of their feet. Her matted dark red, almost brown, hair covered her face and was unruly around her shoulders. Her clothing was disgustingly dirtied with what looked to be stained urine coating the legs of her cargo pants and blood soaked well into the point of crusting on her tank top. When her head jerked forwards towards him, after hearing Riddick let out a barely there surprised grunt at seeing her again, he was fixated with the dull and cruel depths of those all too familiar brown orbs.

"Baldy…!?" Georgina Collins gasped at him, her eyes widening and jaw dropping. But she was allowed only a moment to stare at the large hulking form of the one time lover and partner in crime before the shots and shouting of the now remaining two mercs giving chase to her came ripping through the tense sphere.

Riddick watched as she glanced over her shoulder with a snarl on her pale and dried lips, her eyes puffy and tiredness seeping from off of her bleeding and exhausted form. He noted that flare of defiance that he had found so alluring in the first place shift into her gaze as she turned towards him once more, straightening out and squaring her shoulders. A wrinkle came to her nose and he was certain that she had pushed passed any and all knowing she had of him and was now just staring at him as someone that was in her way towards her own respective freedom. And from the looks of it he held hers in the balance, just as she held his. Both of them needed to move and get the fuck out of here if they wanted to get anywhere near away from their selective captors.

"Move," her voice was low and commanding and Riddick bristled at being told what to do.

Crossing his thick arms he cocked his head to the side, a cocky sneer coming over his features. He could almost feel her anger, could smell her rancor and frustration, before stating stoutly. "You move; you're in my way princess."

George scoffed before clenching her fists and narrowing her gaze at him. He could hear the necromongers catching up, could taste their rancid stink they brought with them thick in the atmosphere of a pleasant planet, and he found his own annoyance rising. Watching as the woman before him rolled her neck, cracking several bones in the process, he wondered if the violence he could sense around her was really directed at him.

George narrowed her gaze once more on the man she had thought she had left from her life three or so years ago with bordering hatred. Any and all rational thought went blowing out of her head and the sting of the merc wound in her shoulder as well as the few cuts the one that she had killed mere minutes after the first reminded her just why Riddick was in her black book. There was a strong, strong possibility he was responsible for her being captured in the first place. Not to mention his being here, oh yea, it was far too coincidental.

Pointing an accusing finger at him she snarled out in a low voice, "You posted a six million cred bounty on my head you fucking ass…"

This made Riddick raise his eyebrows but he didn't have long to reveal in his shock before the red head launched herself at him with two long, wicked looking daggers glimmering in her hands. This was far from how he had ever pictured the possible reunion between him and the woman killer.


	21. Chapter 21 The dance

**Oh my god this is so late. I'm so sorry guys but my life became very busy. Anyone that stops by my deviant page knows I'm trying to get my tattoo apprenticeship so yea, that's taken up a lot of time and work and muscle spasms and just evil things. Its a long chapter though. Enjoy. **

**Chapter twenty one: **

**The dance**

George gasped when she was slammed into a wall by the much stronger killer, her arms held tightly behind her back and his body pressing hard against her. She could feel his damp breath against her neck and despite the overflowing rage going through her that same intimate connection that had happened so long ago now made a shudder rain through her spine and down to her very toes. Though any and all stimulation, intended or not on his part, was quickly quailed by the rage that his very presence was bringing. Snarling she whipped her head back and smashed it into his nose with a loud crack, the man behind her grunting and weakening his grip enough for her to wrench free.

Pulling out of his grasp she turned and wheeled a kick soundly to the side of his head, snapping it to the side while her eyes narrowed viciously.

Riddick swore under his breath as he turned his head, rolling it to the side and making his neck issue a loud and disgusting popping noise. He could taste the metallic tang of blood within his mouth and his vision had gone slightly blurry with that surprisingly powerful thrust kick. He set his gaze back onto George who was just out of arms reach, her fists up protectively and her entire body hard and rigid. Prepared for a fight… it seemed that nothing had changed about the girl at all. The bald male ran his tongue over his incisors real quick, feeling all of his teeth for any loose spots, and to her luck found none out of place or damaged. Though they had made the promise that they would never see each other again, and if they did that they basically did not know each other and were free to wail on each other should the need arise, he couldn't help the next words that came from his mouth.

"Listen, George, just fucking move and I won't beat the shit out of you for that," he growled low and menacingly.

George didn't back off as he started towards her, his entire body emanating that darkness and power that had come off even in the haul of the merc ship. She did, however, take a precautionary sliding step back, her chest freezing up and her heart starting to hammer dangerously in her ears. It had been a while since she had even faced someone like Riddick, not since one of her hunts right after the break out had she encountered anyone even close, but facing off against him again was like going up against a mountain. And all at once that crushing intimidation and verging fear came washing over her at what she had done, having that mixed with her hatred towards the man for supposedly putting up a bounty on her head and it was a powerful mixture that was making her body swim and her muscles ache with tension. When he had come almost upon her, reaching out to push her aside, George snarled again and pushed his arm aside and thrust her fist into the core of his stomach right at his belly button.

Riddick grunted and winced for only a second, taking the pain into the back of his brain, before reaching down and taking crushing hold of her wrist. When George let out a small noise, his fingers twisting her around and moving fluidly out of the way, he pushed her down onto the ground, spinning her around from the fulcrum point of the injured joint. Dust fluttered around the red heads body as she snorted, arching her back in pain from slamming down.

She however, brought her stomach bunching in harshly and kicked up hard, smacking Riddick under the chin before he could catch her knee. His head went snapping back again and though his grip once more loosened she couldn't get free this time and when he came back into control of his own body he tightened his hold on the woman and caused her to cry out.

Sliding Georgina across the floor of the alleyway he slammed her into the wall, listening to her skull crack against the hard brick wall. He reached down and grasped the woman by her neck, hoisting her up as she gagged and clawed at his arm in near frantic fury, her mouth opening and closing for quickly restricting air. "Should've taken me up my offer Georgie girl… I ain't gonna go easy on ya," he practically purred.

"You can shove your offer up your ass hole Riddick," George strained out. Her vision was starting to dot in and out with black and grey spots. Her lungs were over compensating and she could tell by her continued gasping noises that she was hyperventilating to try to make up for the lack of air. She couldn't control her body, she knew that she had to take deep calm breaths but her mind was working in over time and the terror of ever fighting him the first time was seizing her body again. She was being overwhelmed. Shit, she couldn't lose here. If she passed out then they would catch up to her again!

Riddick watched as a suddenly sickening sneer came over George's features smugly, a look he didn't like one bit. Just as he was cocking an interested eyebrow she suddenly beamed him right between the legs hard as she could with her shin, using every single muscle in her body for power. Stars filled Riddick's gaze as he gasped and sunk down despite himself, reaching down with one hand to grasp the wounded area while in his stunned shock she snapped his hold from her and ducked out from under him.

George swept her leg under his knees and made him slam against the wall in turn, his head smashing against the rough surface as he had made hers. She now cursed his lack of hair for if he had any she would have started to smash his face in but sadly all she could was kick him in the spine and then jump back as he started to come back up to a standing, his muscles rippling with each movement. She bounded up and down, holding her defensive posture while eyeing him warily. She could clearly see the shinning of metal on his hips, just as he could see her own, so then why had he not drawn out his shiv's? They were his favorite weapon… his trademark, like the dagger and plasma riffle were to hers. This didn't make any sense. However George didn't have time to hash out just why Riddick had not pulled out his big guns yet before he was walking towards her with that god damn same silent way, his fingers cracking as they pulled into cruel looking fists.

She glanced over her shoulder, realizing that they had switched places during their fight and could by all means now just go their own separate ways, again. But that flashing on Riddick's goggles was foreboding and ominous it was clear that he intended for there to be a winner and a loser to this fight. She had a feeling, like always, that she was going to be the loser.

Riddick didn't let that glance behind her go unnoticed. He spotted her turning apprehensively upon realizing that she was now facing the direction she had come and he could hear the wheels turning and plotting her escape. Poor George must have forgotten in their time apart just how much stronger he was than her… But now that he had the time to study her again, even as she was drawing her weapons out of her holsters and they glittered threateningly in the double suns setting rays, he noted that she had changed somewhat since he had last seen her and yet not at all. She gave off the distinct air of someone that had experienced a great deal more since the threes they were separated, and she even looked a little older with dark circles starting to form under those dull brown eyes.

He wasn't allowed another second of observation to take in all of the changes or faults that had been given in the time allotted for George ran at him with her daggers at the ready. Quickly ducking back as she took a wild swing at him, the metal ringing in the air and causing a slight gust of wind to move the hairs on his arms, Riddick had only another moment to flatten against a wall and roll before she tried to stab him. With a spinning motion his shiv's were drawn and it had elevated from a mere fist fight to the more deadly of versions, one that could leave either one of them bloody and dead in this back alleyway. The coming shouts of either of their pursers weren't of importance, though it did occur to him that the interaction between that seemed to be taking an eternity of his time had probably only been seconds thus far; all that mattered was beating the other person into the ground and getting on their ways respectively.

They came together again in a flurry of metal and grunting. Flesh hitting flesh, the ringing of metal slamming into metal, the sparks flying and the teeth gnashing from either ends of the blows. Blood splashed down onto the ground form cuts and scrapes, adding to the already wounded, and when George managed to spin and knee him in the gut while bringing her blade down on his neck she almost got him there; there on the back of the head where the main arteries to the brain were located… he would be dead before he hit the ground. Or he would have been had he not when he doubled over her knee, grabbed the woman before him around the waist and thrown her to the ground with him in what could only be called a struggling wrestling match of flying limbs, shiv's skidding to the ground and daggers now lying useless and aside.

Riddick once more had his hands on George's throat after about three flips and a few rather good punches once more to his head; the only part that wasn't a solid wall of rock hard muscle. Holding her down into the dirt and watching as she snarled, both of their bodies equally dusted in that same red clay, and the way the filth of her undoubted captivity clung to her, he had to admit that it looked a lot like the old days. And for a moment he was sentimental. In that moment he was weak.

George moved her arms from clawing at his to between them and used the brunt of her forearms and elbows to smack into his inner elbows hard. This caused the joints to buckle without his consent and she was once more landing a hard right hook right on his nose. No one, not even Riddick, would get in her way of freedom. She was just clambering free of his grasp from under his hulking form when he grabbed her ankle while still holding his nose, blood now drizzling from the wound and his goggles blazing dangerously and deathly at her. His grip was like fucking iron fortified steel and when she tried to kick him off he grabbed the other ankle, letting his injured face go and dragging her back under him, his lips pulling back in a feral and aggravated snarl.

"Gimme one good reason why I shouldn't smash that face of yours in, girl," he snapped bitterly, not liking that she had gotten in a good few too many blows; it didn't matter to him that the hit ratio was one to five because a hit was a hit. A single hit could be enough to knock someone down and make them weak and vulnerable, make them susceptible to death.

George snarled at him, watching the fist he had pulled back and the way that the muscles in his arms moved and tensed, corded with absolute strength, threatened her very existence. It didn't take a genius to know where he was aiming… her eyes, that's where the bone was the thinnest and the easier of targets from his position atop of her. Hell that's where she would hit if she were in his situation. Suddenly a gun shot came into the air, louder than before, much louder, almost right next to them, and she watched his head shoot in that direction. Though she could have taken that time to knee him in her favorite of male tender zones she merely laid there under him, her eyes hard and cold while her mind whirled with a way to get out of this not only a live but without chains being slapped on her and carted away to a slam.

Shifting her shoulders back into the clay that was under her, dried and compact from years of people tramping upon it, she smirked when he returned his powerful though shielded gaze upon her. She could feel his eyes, boring into her very mind and seeming to read it like an open book. "Because from the sounds of it my guys are getting closer, and so are yours… If you want to get out of here fast enough Riddick I suggest you get off of me and we both high tail it out of here before they get to either of us."

A neat W formed between his creasing brows and she could practically see the emotions play over his face; that is had it been he was a normal man. But bearing in mind that it was Riddick and that same old muscle twitch under the left side of his mouth showed his consideration and clenching teeth… She prayed that her appeal to his logical side would help her in this situation. After all, her experience with Riddick taught her that when he was thrown into a kind of animalistic rage, like he was in now, then your only hope was to get to his sense of self preservation.

Silence slipped in between them once more, as it had time and time again, and she watched him with a roaring pulse in her ears. The tension was thick and choking, sliding against their bodies and holding them strong against the slimy hands of anxiety. After moments of terse thought Riddick's fist lowered and her merely sat back off of the prone woman, his hand running over the bottom half of his face in annoyance. "This ain't over," he growled lowly, his voice rumbling in the air like a clash of thunder.

He had just gotten off of her and was dusting himself free of the film of terra cotta colored dust when her mercs came barreling around the corner. They had their guns already pointed on the staggering girl who had just gotten onto her knees and was about to stand when they laid their eyes upon Riddick. He watched in satisfaction as their eyes widened and jaws dropped, staring at him like he was some kind of mythical beast. That they thought he didn't really exist. Which was good for it gave him some quick time to study just who had managed to put old Georgie girl into such a state of grime and bruising. One was tall and had a thick, heavy frame akin to Riddick's own, with short brown, muddy hair, and green eyes that were blazing of the girls death for escaping and killing his men. The other was much shorter than his leader, stocky too with a large belly and balding all save for the tuft of hair that ran in a ring around his skull… his face had a decidedly piggish look to it with a pushed in nose and bulging eyes. He didn't know how on earth she had managed to fall into such pathetic hands.

That was until he spotted just what kind of weapons they were sporting. Grade A top of the line shit… and when he chanced a glance over to where she had frozen on the spot, spitting on the ground and glaring in the direction of her former captors he knew that was the reason she had gone down. She knew as well as anyone else in their field just what those kinds of weapons could do to a convict. The tickling of her exhaling a rather harsh word towards her captors hit his ears and he couldn't help the small smirk that pulled at the edges of his lips. He supposed no one really ever changed in the long run…

George's heart sunk down to the pit of her stomach when Jeremy and his final lackey came around that corner. She felt cold all over suddenly at the prospect of yet again being put into chains, though thought that now she was royally fucked over rested heavily on her shoulders. Then something struck her… if these guys were working for the man before her then why were they staring at him in such shock and awe? If they were working for Riddick there would be no excuse for them to be staring at him like some kind of ghost. Shit! She wrinkled her nose in momentary distaste of herself for having acted so brashly as to attack the other convict out of blind and unfounded rage. She made herself a fool…

Or maybe this was all a clever ruse… She wasn't willing just yet to let go of the possibility that for some reason Riddick wanted her out of the way.

"Well, well, look who we finally caught up to…" Jeremy puffed out, his face red and sweaty from running after George. The filthy woman busted with pride at seeing him so exhausted and also with several harsh bruises forming all over his face and arms from when he had tried to restrain her just an hour before. Oh yes, they had nearly caught her again, but she was not going to go down without a fight. She would make sure they got that through their thick skulls.

George came the rest of the way up to a stiff standing, her lips parted and panting while her body rang with pain from her scuffle with Riddick. Now there was no way that she could take these guys on by herself, not in her state, not in her condition of near starvation and dehydration. She needed to get to the safe house, she needed rest, and most importantly, she needed new clothing and a fucking shower. Her gaze slid over to Riddick who was regarding her, she could feel it, through his goggles with a cock of his head towards her. It never ceased to amaze her just how easily he could observe something, analyze it, dissect it, and discover the root of it within seconds. She both loathed and admired it. Rolling her shoulders the woman tried to appear arrogant and not dog shit tired like she was.

"Yeah, well… I wanted to see your smiling face again Jeremy…" she hissed out, twirling her daggers to emphasis her readiness. In reality she was hoping that she was wrong about them and Riddick being paired up. If that was the case then she was as good as caught, she couldn't run much longer and he was faster and stronger than she was. But she was counting on them being intimidated by the wall of muscle before her, the man that had killed more mercs than she could ever count; hopefully they would just run off like dogs.

"You got your wish. Though now, oh now we have a much bigger fish in our sights…"

Riddick let out a big booming laugh at that, the kind that hit you in the chest as hard as one of his punches and made you stagger back in shock. Very rarely had she ever known the man to laugh, and usually when he did it meant bad things for those that he found amusing. Because of what he found amusing. She slid a step back as Riddick held out his arms, his body seeming to move as one huge being of death. "Me? It would take a lot more than just the two of you fuckers to take me out," the bald man growled out and George felt a shudder run up her spine.

She could tell that now he was focused. Riddick when he was up against someone was intent practically only on them, upon the coming fight and finding his enemies weakness. That meant that she had a perfect opening to get away… from both the killer and the mercs. Oh but he would hate her for it. Why the hell should she care? The inner war waged on as the hulking bald man took a few steps towards the raised guns, and even from here she could tell he wore a smirk that belied his seriousness of the situation. These jokers weren't leaving this alleyway alive if he could help it.

"He went this way!" a sudden yell from down the turn of the alleyway, the way that Riddick had originated from, came crashing through the tense stand off. George whipped her head around, her hands gripping into her daggers with a hiss. Just as around the corner came barreling the forms of easily ten necromongers after the bald man's hide George glanced towards him with a scowl, her eyes narrowed on his goggled gaze.

"Don't you dare Red," he ground.

George sneered. With a flash she slammed into passed the stunned mercs, the swearing Riddick, and was running off down the dirt road and away from the fight that was all too much for her. She was a coward, she wasn't afraid to admit it. If she knew she couldn't win there was no point in staying for a fight just to get your ass handed to you. She could hear Riddick screaming at her at nearly the top of his lungs, calling her all the names under the sun as she turned hard around a corner and was out of sight.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

George winced as she pressed alcohol soaked cotton into the many wounds she had received during her daring escape. The sting of the cleanser against the invaded wound made her nostrils flare but she tried to ignore it and focus on the other things occupying her mind at the moment. So many things to think about… so many things to wonder and scheme and prepare for that she scarcely knew where to begin. Freedom was only the first step when escaping from mercs, the next three always proved to be the hardest. Namely keeping her new found release, killing those that were pursuing her, and getting off of this rock and to another system before another ship was deployed after her… and add to that there was something new thrown into the mixture. Namely one Richard B. Riddick had come onto the scene once more like a hurricane, slamming down what she had thought was real and true and bringing with him only doubt and suspicion.

Dipping the small, red tinged spawn of Satan himself back into the alcohol she brought the ball back up onto the injury near her forearm, a cut that she had received while fighting with the bald man that had brought too many complications. Here, in the darkness of the hostel's room, she could almost forget about just what had started this whole mess. Looking for her brother and what involvement he had in the murder of a religious holy man. It was a small enough room she found, merely a bed and a night stand table, and it was a dingy place at that. With walls a sickly, stained, yellow with paint so old that it was starting to peel from the walls in thick curling strands and revealing the wood paneling underneath, and blinds covering the windows that were tattered and an almost charred black from all of the dust and crumbling from their own timeless experiences, it never ceased to astound her how run down safe houses for criminals were. She wasn't expecting anything fancy, hell she wasn't even expecting a television or any form of electronics in her room other than the switch to turn on the light and the control panel for the shower, but this was fucking ridiculous even for her. But it would do…

Immediately after having ditched her fans as well as an undoubtedly enraged Riddick she had made her way to this hotel. She had stayed here once before, back when it was slightly newer and the management actually cared about the fact that they were being paid for their rooms; she knew this place was as sound as a rock against the Alliance and any and all mercs. These kinds of places were running scarce with the peace now entering into the systems, which was all the worse for George. Having set down all of her cleaning supplies after arriving in her room, scaring off the timid bar hop with a snarl and jolting her body at him like some kind of beast she had ripped her tank top off and immediately headed to the shower. Her wounds needed to be washed before she could clean them out, not to mention she was covered in her own wastes and blood, if anyone in the world needed a bathe it was her.

And now here she sat, with tongs in hand and applying dabs of cotton soaked in the demon's spit onto her cuts and abrasions, wondering just what next to do. She had come to this planet in the first place for a reason. This was the place where she and her contact were set up to meet whenever something like what happened before she got jumped happened, he was to wait in the safe house for no longer than six months after he got there. Any longer and he'd been ordered to leave because she would most likely not be coming back. But she couldn't risk going there with the mercs swarming around out there and now she had found out that there were necromongers on the planet surface as well and she was fucked. She had no way of getting in contact with the kid… she had to wait them out and who knew how long that would take.

Watching the white clash against her shivering and injured skin George bit her lower lip as a twinge ran up her arm and into her shoulder to pool tensely into her neck. Luckily for her none of the wounds were terribly deep, they didn't do any damage worthy of stitches in her book and they hadn't done any tendon damage. She wouldn't need the cell replication machine she had 'borrowed' for her last ship. Which was excellent because then she would have to actually go to a hospital for the nearest one and that just was not a fucking option. Turning and throwing the cotton ball into the growing number of its like in a small bowl she grabbed a hold of the gauze wrappings near by and bit into the very edge. Grimacing she began to tightly wrap her entire arm from shoulder to wrist, feeling the course cheap material scrap against the more jagged of the flesh and pull it even further open. The alcohol was still burning from contact with her skin and that same disturbingly cold sensation that it met when clashing with the air that was stale in the room by the time that she had gotten down to her elbow.

There was no point in reopening the wound on her shoulder, the one that had healed up horridly and was now little more than a gigantic scab. The only thing that would come from doing anything to that was an even deeper and larger scar and blood loss, lots of it. Her best bet was to leave the damn thing alone…

George chopped the cotton wrapping material stoutly when it had finally encompassed her entire arm and relished in the joy of being able to spit out the fluffiness that now invaded under her tongue and between her teeth. Sometimes it really did suck being so isolated. It would be so much easier tending to wounds if someone else was here… Smacking herself upside the head for the minute thought, snarling at herself in her momentary stupidity, she reminded herself just why she traveled unaccompanied. Caring for another person would only slow her down. She would have to constantly worry about their safety, assure their living in the current undertaking that she was going through, and tend to their injuries as well. Partners in her line of work were not a good idea and often they died far before their time. It was better off to be solitary. Better for everyone…

Sighing George glanced her work over with a wrinkled nose. It would be nice to at some point not have her arms riddled with injuries. The only times she was ever fully recovered from anything was right out of cryo sleep and only because she had been given months, maybe years, to recover. Flexing her fingers in thought she watched the skin on her digits pull and bunch, a marvel of muscle and stretching flesh. The human body was an amazing thing… and yet so frail, so fragile… so many weaknesses. You could die any number of ways, really the possibilities were endless; she just happened to be fluent in how to do it. That's what she told herself whenever she went to sleep some nights. That it was just what she did.

She didn't have any choice.

'Bull shit, you have plenty of choices,' a voice whispered coldly in the back of her head. The red head swatted at the air, as if the tinkling in her ear was some kind of bug and not her conscience, but when it chuckled in her mind she knew it was useless. So instead she sunk down and put her forehead into the palm of her hand, closing her eyes and letting the dark of the space behind her lids embrace her. Dark, so dark, like herself.

'You could have done any number of things… you took the easy way out. You're a coward.'

"Shut up!" George hissed and slammed her free fist down on the table, causing the bowls to rattle and the small pile of cotton to topple and roll away in misshapen little trails. She knew she was a coward. She already knew that she had taken the easy way out. There had been plenty of options but that was for hindsight, at the time it was the only thing open to her. Someone of her standing had almost no chance in New Spain… she had been given a loaded deck against herself. Just picturing her life before she had become what she was, the days leading up to the poster, the weeks of contemplation and living in squalor while trying desperately to not only support herself but Noah as well… it had been hell. But would he still be with her if she hadn't chosen what she had?

Snapping at herself to stop thinking about it she stood, flinging her chair back in disgust at her mind process. Listening to it clatter against the ground she ran a hand through her drying hair, catching on snares and hating the sudden silence that existed within the hostel.

"Doesn't matter now. There's no going back, nothing can change what I've fucking done, there are no choices now but survival."

You can't change the past… so why obsess over it? That's what she kept asking herself but it kept coming to bite her in the ass anyway. Maybe she was the kind of person that just couldn't let go.

The last thought left a bitter taste in Georgina's mouth as she turned and slunk over to the bed, her brown eyes simmering with ire. Forcing her mind elsewhere she came to the acceptance of the new topic that her brain had decided in the last week had been the default topic. Richard B. Riddick; and not only that he might be involved in all of this on some level but also that he was on world with her. She had thought they would never see each other again and was all too willing to let it stay that way. He seemed to bring out the worst in her whenever she was pissed off, she remembered the slam and just how violent she had become in that place… though she had been at her best fight wise she had also been more keen to fight than usual. They were toxic together.

A poison that for some reason had been so damn good tasting; something like you had when you were a child and were wild about because you had not had it in many years. It was a craving she decided then and there. That was why she was thinking about him. Purely because her body was on edge at the very thought that the hulk of a creature was near her, could still be on the planet, and that something might come of it. She still remembered how his coarse hands had felt against her scars, how his eyes had burned whenever those damn goggles had been lifted off of his spectacular orbs, and how damn hot his mouth had been. It should be a sin for someone to be that dangerous, vile, and yet so very powerfully attractive. But she knew nothing should come of it. This sudden craving at the mere thought of Riddick had to die before anything could be done. If she allowed herself to wander too idly down this path it could be perilous. If she allowed it then she might find herself out there, in the throng of danger and caution of getting caught, all to have some tryst with a man that she had sworn to kick from her life like the plague three years ago.

Their promise still burned in her ears. She had kept to it all right. She had purposefully stayed away from systems where he had been sighted unless absolutely necessary, space was big enough that they should never have to run into each other again. What they had was purely sex, once she was off on Ihram they would never see each other again and there were no expectations; so then her thoughts right now were invading on that sworn word. But just how big of a coincidence was it that he was here? Despite all of her careful planning and avoidance they had come across each other when least expected.

Fucking shit! Georgina plopped down onto the bed, allowing the small scratches and far less serious wounds on her left arm to close up with air and suspicious watch. She still hadn't found out if Riddick truly was the person that had posted that bounty. She shouldn't be thinking like this… It was so out of character for her that it was scary. Was it wrong to be attracted to the darkness that he seemed to radiate, wanting it to engulf her and take her down with him? She wouldn't let it… and with that her eyes drifted closed and finally allowed her exhausted body the chance to catch up on sleep where her rest on the ship had been fitful and horrid.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXX

_It wasn't supposed to be like this. This whole thing… this whole plan had gone so wrong… It wasn't supposed to feel and seem like the world was ending and the entire span of one life was crashing down around him. This time he hadn't meant it. This time it had been a mistake. This time… the pain of regret was knotting devastatingly in his stomach. _

_Richard B. Riddick was a troubled youth, he would be the first to tell you that he was fucked up and there was really no point in trying to change him; he'd already tried anyway. But he did know that he had formed an attachment, he had made friends, and those friends now were hurting. It had been simple, they were going to rob a new store that had set up over the last few months and was doing good business, take all they could like usual, and then live off of it for a few weeks until they'd hit another joint. It was a good idea. They had been doing this now for years, a solid four year run, they knew what they were doing and had it down to a science. That was… through all of their years not once had they run into someone during their robberies, not once had they had to contend with anyone outside or inside the store. They had become complacent. They had let this fact slip by them and had reveled in their little crime sprees. They, he, had never thought it would have come to this. _

_It had been any other night in New Germany. The long winter was still clinging to the land with dying breath and though the snow was starting to turn to slush on the ground and the icicles were melting in dripping demise from the tree branches the breeze of spring was billowing upon the air. Deadly quiet and still they had made their common approach, like always, and had entered with their resident brainpan hacking through the lock on the door. It was supposed to go down that they got what they needed, food and cash, but… it hadn't._

_They had been in the process of stuffing their bags with foodstuffs that would last a while as well as several loafs of bread, Specs having shuffled off to try to get into the cash register to obtain the balance within it. Leon was over in a corner, retrieving all of the cans of green beans and beets he could reach, while Riddick was stuffing jerky of all kinds into his own burlap sack. Life hadn't gotten easier as the chill had started to lessen, if anything over the last six months of doing this shit it had gotten tougher. It seemed the police were starting to catch onto their little operation… he couldn't count how many times Specs' house had been raided while they were gone, looking for evidence to connect them all to the robberies. They were lucky they lived with a fucking genius or they would all be in a slam by now, serving out terms that the others fragile minds couldn't handle. _

_Wrapping his fingers around yet another case of packaged dried beef he was just tossing it into the confines of his bag when a sound caught his sensitive ears. He had continued to become unique over the past few months, his body bigger, longer, taller, and his senses were becoming so sharp that it was starting to hurt sometimes. Muttering was coming from the back room, a room that was supposed to have been empty at this time of night, and when he stopped moving to listen while clenching his teeth that the others didn't as well he could start to make out words and phrases. Too late did he catch the click of a loaded gun or the door burst open, too late to save one of their own that is… before the molten metal came shooting out of the barrel of a high grade pistol. _

_Riddick instantly, out of reflexes he hadn't known he had, fell down onto his hands and knees away from the line of fire. But he saw it all. Leon had turned, stunned when the door had opened, and was gapping when blood ripped from his chest just to the left of its center. Muscles went flying, a gaping hole formed where his heart had once been, and the crunching slurping noise of breaking bones was making Richard's stomach churn. The sixteen year old watched in horror as Leo jolted, his eyes widening while blood blossomed from his lips in grotesque crimson bubbles. Red splattered the wall and floor around the exit wound and Riddick couldn't look away from the scene, mesmerized as his good friend's quickly dying form slumped down onto its knees. _

_With a thud Leon's face was buried in the tiles of the floor and an impossibly large pool of crimson formed beneath him. He could hear the others screaming, the crunch of them running over broken food containers and shoving each other out of the way through the double doors, but he couldn't move. He just laid there, staring at Leon's body as his fingers twitched out of dying brain reflexes and the pungent scent of newly spilled feces and life blood intermingled. The bastard that had taken him out was now staring at Riddick, his buddy behind him smirking broadly and stating something that was becoming strangely lost to the youth. All that he could hear now was an odd rushing noise in his ears, his pupils expanding, and everything around him becoming a dark haze besides those before him. The breaking glass sensation was back on the crown on his head and surprisingly the screaming voices were quiet to mere whispers, a single word resounding in his ears with the pounding blood. Revenge… revenge… take it, don't let them get away with this. Who were they to kill someone so pure, someone so selfless… as Leon? His heart was pounding uncomfortably fast in his throat and something in that moment when the guy was laughing and motioning to his friends body, Riddick's chocolate eyes momentarily shifting there and then back, snapped. _

_It was audible in his ears. That ringing that had been gathering in his entire body now broke into lose muscle where they had once been tense, and even the terror at being faced with a gun was lessened in this moment. Nothing else mattered… _

_That was the night when Richard B. Riddick had made his first kill ever. He had beaten the two guys heads into the ground harshly, until their skulls were little more than shards that shifted around disgustingly in their skin suites like a stress ball. At least that was what the detectives that questioned him the next week claimed… truth be told he couldn't remember it. It was all awash in his first bloodlust, nothing more than a haze of red clouding over his memories of that night minus that disturbing sight of his best friend with a hole in his chest and red staining every surface of his once proud form. _

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

The necromongers had been easy to lose… then again it hadn't been hard when they had been ordered by their Lord Marshal to open fire on the mercs that had been advancing on him. During the crossfire he had slipped away, silently as he could, making his way along alleyways and homes and finally down into the sewer systems to be safe that his scent wouldn't follow him. He had gotten away with little more than scratches and a grazed bullet wounds here and there, nothing major.

But as night fell and he was confident that he had gained his freedom for now Riddick crouched on a rooftop and glared down at the city around him. The moon high in the air and the stars of many other galaxies and systems he could see even if his goggles weren't plastered to his forehead. Anger was burning in his blood at just how he had gotten into that mess in the first place. It was her fault… he wouldn't forget her just turning and running away and leaving him to deal with all of those enemies. Not that he could blame her, fact was he would've done it too, but that didn't stop the indignant ire from building up. He could still see the smirk that had formed on her lips when she had seen that window… bitch.

He had assumed. For the first time since he could recall he had assumed something, and even worse it had been that she would have stayed and helped him dispatch those that were following both of them. It was what would have gone down in the Slam. He remembered those fights; of her having his back no matter what. However, he supposed it was out of necessity, out of knowing that he was her ticket out of there and she had no real choice but to follow him and help him out. He had been a fool for those few seconds. Whatever trust, however small, that had been built up between him and Georgie had been either shattered or beaten up to a bloody mess. He would never make that mistake again. That old proverb was right it would seem, assuming makes an ass out of me and out of you.

He had spent the two hours since the sun had gone down tracking down the trail that his little red head had left behind. Sure she had covered it up adequately for if a merc or a necro came after her, but Riddick was the master at this kind of thing. There was no hiding from him. So imagine his surprise when his nose and a few well intimidated civilians and fellow criminals later that he was standing just above the very hostel that he had been on his way to when he'd been caught. Irony never tasted this sweet, nor would revenge. The only question was what to do to her?

She seemed like she had been pretty bad off when they had separated. Her body would be weak and feeble, still trying to patch itself up from the beating she had taken from being captured and from trying to fight him; she would be open game as far as he was concerned. And she had no one to blame but herself for messing with Richard B. Riddick. He should have killed her when he had the chance… he growled low in his throat when he recalled just how many times she had left herself vulnerable to him and how he had looked over it. All because he hadn't needed to kill her, all because he had formed some form of bond with the woman because she had bedded with him on numerous occasions. He would never make that particular mistake again.

Riddick shifted against the roof, putting his hands to the rough brick edging and glaring down at the twenty foot drop to the other structure. He clicked his teeth in agitation, the chill but humid air of the planet sticking to his skin and making him feel slow and heavy. Sweat that had been shed during his first escape from the necro's earlier that day was still running down his skin and to his revile he could smell his own stench. This was why he didn't do good in tropical climates; his bulky body already produced enough heat on its own and add to that the sauna of this night and he was more grouchy than he had been in a long time. It was good for him though that the planet was as much of a night owl as the New York city of earth, even still he could hear people meandering around the streets, drunken and slurred words bellowed and laughed at, the hum of engines, and even the occasional police siren responding undoubtedly to a noise violation. It was a mixed blessing for him. Crowds were easy to hide in but at the same time now that he was gone from his pursers and planned not to be back there if anyone should see him up here that would lead the mercs right to his and Georgie's door, literally. And even better was the fact that the sounds of scuffling at this time of night were common, no one would bother them.

No one would hear them…

With a small grunt Riddick pushed himself off of the ledge and down to the waiting awning, sliding down the surface with practiced ease. It never failed that when he fell from such a height that his chest would flutter, his eyes would water, and he was filled with an almost fear of the actual landing when he had first jumped off. It didn't seem that he would be rid of this phobia but he had reigned it in a long time ago, after one incident had nearly gotten his head blown off by a merc. Slipping down the fabric was a way to both slow himself down and to make the jarring landing softer, ensuring that he wasn't injured that badly from the intense height. And indeed when he was past the edge and his booted feet hit hard against the gravel strewn dirt road beneath he felt the familiar shiver of his bones and back crying out in rebellion against the harsh surface. Landing on mattresses or other soft things was rare so his body would just have to suck it up and keep up with him.

The outside of the inn was before him, all three stories of run down brick that was molding and rotting in the volatile climate around him. Lights flickered here and there from some of the rooms, casting the golden glows through stained and frosted over glass from grime and years of ill cleaning. It was slums like this where his type often were drawn because here they were safe… they were only human after all. Everyone wanted to feel safe if only for a little while. If only she knew that this was the least secure place to hide from him. His silver eyes swept over the façade of the building, discreetly hidden between two much larger apartment buildings and hidden deep within the back alleyways, far away from the main street. Trash littered the street around him, anything from fruit cores or wrappers to other food groups to less sanitary things such as condoms or needles from a hyper. He wrinkled his nose in distaste for a moment before one of the whispers in his mind reminded him that he had grown up in streets, cities, planets like this and much worse; he didn't have the right to turn up his nose to it when he wasn't any better at all.

Riddick pulled his massive frame together, rolling his shoulders and listening to the cracks of settling joints before glancing to the unlit windows, their occupants either asleep or gone for the night. Georgina Collins the murderer wouldn't be stupid enough to leave a light on, at all, she would be the one sitting in the dark looking to her wounds in near pitch if she had to. All to avoid capture, attention, where she would get away blood free: her survival instincts were sharper than he had given her credit for back in the Slam.

He crossed the alley with nothing more than a faint crunch of gravel from the first step before he was at the wooden door, locked and barred with barbaric looking metal deadbolts. He knew this song and dance, he had stayed here after all a few times before. Knocking stoutly on the door he stepped back and waited patiently, counting down the many ways he could extract his revenge from the woman that waited for him within. She had fucked with the wrong person…

George's eyes shot open, her mind screaming for her to wake up from the deepest sleep she had had since her nightmares had started to resurface. Her brown orbs darted around her living space, her form sprawled out on the bed sans sheets. When nothing met her gaze, not that she could see much in the now inky darkness around her from the midnight hours, she furrowed her brow in confusion as to why she had been so rudely awakened by her own body. The door was not open and the windows were barred shut… and yet she felt like something was wrong here, dead wrong.

She slowly brought herself up to a sitting, her eyes narrowed and her ears straining viciously to try to catch any kind of movement within the room with her. Paranoia now had her blood pumping in pounding rhythm in her ears, rushing so loudly she wondered if she would be able to truly get a hold of any sound that came her way over the cacophony. She reached down to the daggers that were on her hips, putting a reassuring hand on them while her breathing was shallow and quieted to the point where it hurt her chest. She could sense something in here with her, or so she thought, it could just be the years of being on the run and being clinically out of her mind that were finally catching up to her. It wouldn't be the first time. But this was different than those times she was in a corner all night shouting at the phantoms in her room to come out of hiding.

No, the air almost had a chill to it. There was no altered scent around her, no permissible noises that would have come with another human being rummaging around her room or even just standing somewhere. George let out another puff of breath before slowly drawing her weapons, the metal glittering very dully in the less than helpful lack of light. As soon as they were fully withdrawn however she heard, no felt, the air change and was up off of the bed in a heart beat, stumbling back in shock. The sound of the mattress and the sheets tearing under the ringing of a fellow metal weapon filled her ears and when her eyes managed to focus on where she had been sitting mere moments before all she caught was the hulking outline of a mass of a man.

Her blood ran cold when she spotted the sheen of a weapon, just as her ears had confirmed for her, in both of its hands before it came to a standing, too far away to make out any features on him. George didn't have another moment to let her still slightly sleep fogged mind to race up to the conclusion that it was him to come and settle their score before she had to yet again dodge a punishing swipe from long and curved weapons. Swearing under her breath the woman ducked and sliced upwards in a desperate attempt to get away, gritting her teeth when all she met with was air.

This so did not look good…

George spluttered when her attempt to yet again get away from a punch was met with a blow to the side by something that felt hard as concrete covered in leather before she was soundly hit in the gut. Stumbling back she coughed hard, trying to regain her wind when she was shoved painfully against the wall of her room, the window shuttering next to her in shock. Her brown eyes focused on the person before her, and though the slits of light from the streets outside showed her little more than combat boots and dark colored cargos she had to move again as they came charging at her like a bull. They kept attacking, forcing her to span the length of the room with her life saving maneuvers, her arms moving around and using them to make her entire body move backwards on legs exhausted with all of her previous fights that day. Terror ran cold in her veins as they both stopped and stood there, the intruder intent on her while she tried to figure out how the fuck he had gotten in before she had woken up.

Georgina twirled her daggers in her fingers thoughtfully. Grunting she stepped forwards, slashing at the figure that had dared come into her hostel room and wake her up from a sound slumber. Forced to bring up a protective guard she stabbed at the person with a snarl, her eyes narrowing and determined to get her footing back into this little scuffle. Going on the offensive she started to attack with near reckless abandon, slashing and slicing at the air, their weapons meeting in a ringing of malice and metal. She remembered the average height of a man and the bulk of this mans shadow and began to plot out his vital organs and weak points in her brain, dodging another attack just barely to escape with a small cut on her side.

They were somewhat evenly matched with hand to hand weapons, with the stranger a little ahead of her and forcing her once in a while to be pushed into the wall and have to scuffle away just as they were going to kill her. She was on the defense far more than she was used to and her head was reeling. George rolled backwards over the bed, managing to get distance, and just as the man had come around the mattress she used it as a ground to send her foot into his jaw with a thud, then brought her fist colliding with his neck and sent him stammering back, gripping onto his jaw and groaning in pain.

Taking advantage of his stunned state George stepped forwards and stabbed at him, lips pulled back in a grotesque snarl as her body thrummed. Her knife didn't make contact before her forearm was encompassed in a large, gruff hand and being squeezed to the point of pain. The intruder twisted it causing her to grunt in torture, feeling something somewhere tear in her muscles, before she was slammed with her back to the figure, a cold dagger to her throat and lips at her ear. Her breathing stilled and her entire mind froze to a halt, any possible chance she had had of getting away from this situation or of killing the person that had entered her room seemed to drain away like frigid water through her veins. She didn't dare move for the bite of the weapons edge was cruelly thin and wicked, already causing her skin to shiver as it came ever closer with each pump of her blood and each panted breath.

"Thought you could get away… Georgina…?" a voice, deep and raspy, grumbled into her ear and her back arched despite herself. She was slammed back into place by the twisted arm, her eyes widening and her heart starting to hammer painfully in the confines of her brain. "Not when I looked for so damn long for you," he snarled spitefully into her ear, saliva splattering against the shell hatefully.

George felt the leather of her other dagger in her free hand but she didn't even think of moving or doing anything. Not as the knife of the enemy pushed to the side, cutting open the thin epidermis, not fully slicing into the blood depths but enough to make the woman wince at the feeling of tearing flesh. Oh God this was a fucked up way to die… She exhaled sharply from her nostrils before sucking in more oxygen, her wide eyes focused on the ceiling from her head craned as far from the weapon as possible.

"Had such hopes for you," the thick voice stated somberly, breath ghosting against her neck and making her teeth clench, holding her tongue against the roof of her mouth to stave off her biting remark. She couldn't afford her own attitude now… it would get her killed faster than a blink of the eye. "Why do criminals have to be so damn hot?" Georgina's eyes snapped to the side to give her infamous murder glare to the shock of hair as teeth bit into her neck, the knife steadily going deeper into the sensitive skin until a fine trickle of red began to make its way down her neck and into her freshly clean tank top, tainting the dark green fabric with a growing puddle.

Fuck, shit, damn it, all the curse words she knew in ever language she had picked them up in ran through her brain. There was no room for error… not only were the teeth of this guy sharp and digging steadily into the skin but his knife, now resting about two millimeters into her skin, was dangerously close to her carotid artery… However, all thoughts of strategy or getting away without serious damage, if even her life, vanished when his mouth pulled back and his filthy tongue, lithe and cold against her shuddering neck, smoothed its way up the curve of her neck and leaving a sickly chilled trail behind it. Like slim… Something in her snapped and before she could even think about it her chest felt like it had exploded and her vision went black, not red, not even the occasional grey, but her anger took hold of her with searing and tingling fingers and reigned in control.

Slamming her elbow back hard the knife the guy had been holding jerked against her skin, leaving a harsh red line, before he stumbled back. He didn't move fast enough as one dagger buried into his neck from an awkward angle, deep into his nerves and down between his collarbone and shoulder, severing any and all blood vessels there; she wrenched her arm free from his grasp and span the other around, firmly impaling it into his manhood with a feverous growl. Hot blood, not that of her own that was now running in many small rivets down her neck and chest, ran down her shoulder from the now gaping mouth of the stunned man behind her.

Pulling her weapons out with a thrush she heard his body gurgle before hitting the ground, a spurt of his blood hitting her along the back from the still struggling heart. He fell into the limited light of the windows, the shades pulled up just a bare inch, enough to let in the moonlight to highlight the short brown hair that was now matted with blood and dirt from the long fight. Jeremy laid dying at her feet and when his green eyes flared up at her George merely scoffed and crouched down to his height, her own gaze narrowing critically. Blood was draining from him at an alarming rate and his face, once tan and what would have been attractive had it not been a captor captive situation now pallid and ashen.

"You… bitch…" his lips coughed up blood and it spattered onto her face, smearing under her eye and over her chin and cheek before he staggered from his hands to struggling on the ground. His breath came out in wheezes, little more, and his eyes were wide and uncomprehending. He was supposed to bring that bitch in, she was his ticket to he big time, to the likes of Johns and Tombbs!

George watched in satisfaction when his eyes dimmed and his body went slack against the ground, her mouth turning up once more in that same maniacal way. "I told you I'd kill you…" she whispered before patting him on the head.

She stood and turned, cleaning her daggers on her shirt before he gaze snapped up, her heart once more stopping in her chest. Silver eyes watched her from the corner of the room, right before the bathroom and her world seemed to come crashing down in shock, terror, and an odd sort of excitement. How the hell had he gotten in here!? Had he been there the whole time?? Why hadn't she seen him when she'd been fighting with the dead merc on her floor!?!

All that became moot when a chuckle lifted into the air, that same booming one that came undeniably from the one and only most wanted killer in the universe. She took a step back but he was on her faster than she could think, his thigh between her legs jarringly and pushing her up against a wall, her arms slammed above her head, and his nose brushing against hers. There was a darkly amused grin on his face, one void of mirth, while those insane orbs held her own stare.

"Riddick!" her voice came out nothing more than a squeak, her feet not even touching the ground. Her daggers had been lost during the attack and she was left there to the large, bald convict as he looked her over.

"Good to see you too Georgie…" Riddick almost purred before bringing a shiv to under her chin, the soft skin beneath tempting his blade. "We have some unfinished business girlie." The heat of his breath was pounding onto her face and neck, causing her frizzy hair to flutter around her shoulders and making her skin flush in confusion. This was the last thing she needed.


	22. Chapter 22 Heat

Chapter twenty two:

**Chapter twenty two: **

**Heat**

**Holy fucking shit Batman, this is seriously late! . I swear to you I'm not dead, really! I just was moving, work schedule got fucked over, and then I had a terminal case of writers block. I apologize! Please forgive me! **

Riddick reveled in the way that George was arched up against the wall, her eyes wide with shock and fear at seeing him here of all places. He could smell the sweat that was running down her neck and back, the terror tingeing her normally powerful scent, and most pungent of all was the blood that was decreasing steadily in flow down her neck. He studied the red trail a moment before returning his punishing stare to the woman that had dared to cross him of all people. How stupid could she be…? Had she honestly thought she would get away with this?

A small, insincere smirk crossed her features, her eyes belying her painted on confidence. "What unfinished business would that be?" she asked almost balefully, her chest heaving from her fight and from being surprised like this.

He couldn't help the scoff that came from deep in his chest, making the woman before him wince from the booming sound that ripped through the stressed silence between them. Shifting the blades edge against the bottom of her chin, watching as the metal gleamed menacingly while her skin broke out into goose bumps in rebellion. From here he could see every single hard swallow she took, ever movement of her vocal cords, and he found that same all consuming fascination with death come into his mind. He leaned forwards until he was unnervingly close and he could yet again see that flare of both defiance, caution, and interest behind those brown eyes; he doubted she could even register the latter… "I don't know, George…" he hiked his thigh up higher, making her back scrape up against the molding and rough wall, her teeth momentarily bared in a sign of her discomfort.

Riddick pressed his blade closer when the anger in his chest surged again, tainting his senses with a tunnel of red before he repressed it back down. He drawled out nonchalantly, conversationally:

"How 'bout you running out and leaving me to deal with all those damn mercs and necromongers? Seems mighty big unfinished shit to me," he growled this last part, his muscles tightening and his teeth snapping together.

George was confident if she hadn't pissed before her shower only an hour before she would have done so on herself the second she had been pinned and rendered helpless like she was now. Luckily for her that organ was empty and all that was left was the cold washing horror running through her. She could feel the bitter blade under her, the rock hard thigh pressing her up against the wall and making sure that her feet couldn't touch the floor for any leverage, and even could feel the body heat and breath that was permeating from the killer still towering above her. Perhaps she should have shit while she was in the bathroom as well… at this point just about any and all bodily functions were fluctuating in response to being so close to death so many times in one day.

"Oh, that!" George laughed nervously, her eyebrows knitting in contrite concentration. Riddick could hear her thoughts whirling around in frantic frenzy, trying to come up something, anything that would save her. And the fact that she was a fellow murderer and felon only made whatever excuse she could think of automatically fall on deaf ears. Riddick didn't care what she had to say at this point. He felt the woman shift around, trying to pull her hands out of his grip but he merely tightened it to where he was sure vicious purple bruises would be adorning her wrists if he decided to let her live. Her mouth turned up in a beseeching smile, "you could've handled the situation! I have faith in you, Riddick."

"Cut the fucking crap," he snarled. George was tempted to look away from the sweltering silver gaze that was piercing into her very soul but remembered the presence of the damned shiv. Instead she took in a shuddering breath and tried once again to pull on her arms, failing miserably and only succeeding in making her joints call out at her stupidity when his calloused hands punished her movements again. When she dared to catch his stare again, her nostrils flaring in thought and rapid breathing, he snarled at her, "You saved your own ass. Just admit it!"

When she didn't answer fast enough, probably because of the lump forming in the back of her throat, Riddick jostled the younger convict and made her head hit against the wall with a small thud. Hissing and closing one eye, glaring at the bald man before her she could only think about how stupid all of this was. Why was it her shit came to bite her in the ass more than most people? Fate was a cruel bitch. Baring her teeth momentarily despite herself she glared at him, her legs shifting and weighting out her options. With her legs spread like this she couldn't do much damage if any, prone and defenseless she only had one option and that was to yet again head butt him but she doubted he would fall for that one yet again. Fuck!

Gasping when he squeezed her wrists a bit harder, making the bones groan in threat to break or at least move sharply, George finally grounded out a stern, "Fine! Fine, I did. I fucking saved my own skin by leaving ya there, Riddick. But you know what?" her nose wrinkled when her smirk became disarming, her eyes narrowing to the points of slits, "Don't play the high card by saying you wouldn't do the same damn thing given the chance. You're such a hypocrite…"

"Watch it," he warned and the shiv's edge made itself known by moving down to where it was pressed intimately against the pounding pulse just hidden under the shaking skin. "Haven't changed at all, have you Georgie? Still running your mouth off; one of these days its gonna get you killed," Riddick hissed at her, expressing his point by sinking the knife slightly deeper until it was a mere breath away from piercing the skin and ending her life. He watched her chest heave at a hitched breath, all mock cockiness wiped from her face and replaced by what he knew was just beneath the surface. Terror at being this close to death.

She was only human after all. It was understandable to fear dying, to be this close to being bled out by someone like him must have her nearly shitting her pants again. To be on the verge, staring down into the darkness that was mortality, he would admit that even he was afraid once in a while to go down into that pit; until he reminded himself he would go in there sooner or later so why bother worrying over it? It would seem that George suddenly didn't have a death wish anymore… not like in the Slam. He could smell it on her; that minty tinge and sweat and blood and anger, she didn't want to leave this plane. Like some cornered animal she stared down at the arm that was holding the knife like it was the bane of her existence, her eyes comically wide while she would once in a while emit this odd noise from the back of her throat. Whining, he had never heard the red head whine before and it was slightly disconcerting. Maybe she had changed…

Maybe she had grown weaker still.

"Should've killed you when I had the chance," he growled out, shifting to where his face was no longer near hers and looked her up and down. It was almost laughable now to his mind that he had spared her because he had wanted a few good fucks before setting her on her way. Sure she was better than a whore from some brothel but at the expense of his pride and possibly his life it wasn't worth it. He would pay for a thousand prostitutes before he let that happen again. Riddick turned his gaze back up to her and saw a flash of confusion, then acceptance, then a deep frown appear on her lips that gave away her displeasure.

"Probably," she muttered. "I would've if I had been in your shoes," she stated simply like it was the most common thing in the world. Then again, for people such as them it more than likely was. Scratch that, for someone like George it most defiantly was. It was true though, now that she thought on it. She would have ghosted him the second they were off of that Station after they'd escaped, thrusted the body into space, and continued on her merry little way. She didn't know why he had let her live, during her entire time on that ship she'd been ready for him to turn on her and try to take her down; she had not relaxed at all when in his presence. He could snap her in half… just like always.

So the fact that she was still breathing and staring at Riddick with narrowed eyes was confusing to her. She would have already slit the betrayers throat; or did he plan on torturing her like she did so often to those that turned on her? Trey had been actually a lenient case. The fact that she had even left after a few hours, maybe a day, she was still fuzzy on just what happened during her rage induced revenge, was mercy on her part. Back when she was a thundercraker, back when she was still harder than nails and numb as she had ever been to the world around her, she had terrorized and brutalized people for days on end. Whether to get information or just because she hated the soldiers guts didn't matter and what had disturbed her most during that time in her life was that she had enjoyed it on some level. She wondered just what agony Riddick held in store for her if this was indeed her own fate. Karma was coming to skull-fuck her it seemed.

Riddick gritted his teeth and moved the knife a little deeper until a swell of red blossomed over the skin and started to run down to meet the now drying trail from the merc that was staining the floor. His brows furrowed into a neat W and he forced her harder into the wall, watching her intently to see her reaction. When all it did was to produce a grunt and a hiss as the red dripped down steadily, the blade a mere centimeter give or take a few millimeters from her artery, he found a dislike of her mounting. The dark cascaded around them and all the light that there was in the room was next to them, next to the window that was barely letting in any moonlight thanks to the dingy blinds and towering buildings outside. Again it seemed that this little exchange of words was taking much longer than it actually was; what seemed like an eternity for him and the girl was really probably only seconds maybe even a mere minute. Like time itself was waiting with baited breath to see just what would take place here.

George felt the muscles in his thigh cord up and the blade shift in her skin and knew it was coming. Just as he was going to end it all here and now, his orbs narrowing and an angered beyond words look coming to his snarling face, George bunched up her middle and brought her knees up to her chin. Ignoring the deepening cut and how dangerously close it was now from bleeding her out she kicked as hard as she could on his armpits, clashing into them harshly and listening in gratification when he hissed and jolted back, a loud popping filling the air. She landed with a stumble, gripping her neck where the wound was weeping freely but not nearly as bad had it gone just a tiny bit further and watched as the man that had been about to kill her staggered back with limp and useless arms.

Disjointed as he was it would take a few minutes for him to be after her, or she hoped, so George did the thing she had found over the years she was best at. She darted for the door, forgoing all belongings and weapons to just get to freedom. She had to get out of here. The mere fact that the murderous glint in Riddick's eyes had been real and true, that same heat in them as when she had watched him kill countless times in the Slam, meant bad things for her.

Riddick sucked in a sharp breath the second that his arms had been dislodged from the sockets. He hadn't counted on her doing that, willingly taking a deeper wound in order to get away. Her survival instinct was sharper than ever it seemed and his body had paid the price of his ignorance, he added that to the pile of things not to forget when dealing with the spitfire. The moment he had been shoved back in pain and from the force of her blow she had been down on the ground and then bolting for the door, not even looking back to make sure that she had delivered a blow strong enough to fell him. He gritted his teeth at the agony that was blurring his vision, his breathing sharp and hasty as the feeling of fire ran up and down his limp limbs. Unfortunately for her she had not heard of his little gift, the same gift that had freed him momentarily within the Hunter-Gratzner. Gritting his teeth and repressing the cool pooling happening within the core of his gut and mind Riddick turned his head to the side gruffly, exhaling through his nose noisily when with a loud crack one shoulder was back into place. Then, bracing the other with a newly mobile hand he shoved the other back into joint, his sight filling with stars at the surge of violent pain this sent down his back.

George was just gripping the doors handle and pulling it open when suddenly her tank top was taken from behind roughly. Gasping in astonishment, her freedom and the dark corridor just within her reach flying away, she was ripped back into the hotel room and the door slammed before her. With one hand on her throat and the other gripping her arm she was thrown gracelessly onto the bed by the viciously infuriated killer. Slamming down onto the not so soft mattress her wind was momentarily knocked from her chest and her tongue bitten down onto by her teeth, her head jarring back and forth unheeded. It took a moment to recognize just what position she was now in as he rushed onto the bed and grabbed her ankles violently, pulling her down the bed with a grunt.

The sheets came bunching under her back and when she moved to strike at him her arms were pinned above her head, yet again and right atop of the already forming bruises, and her throat was being held securely within Riddick grasp. She tried to thrash around but all that accomplished was him sitting on her legs, locking them with his ankles into place, while he was straddling her hips in a very uncomfortable position undoubtedly for the both of them. The bed had been torn asunder, even the bed covering had been pulled off leaving only mattress at the corners, and the pillows in the small scuffle had been thrown off to the sides of the sleeping surface. Swallowing hard she cursed at herself for not moving faster, for that one second delay when she had landed, as if that could make any difference. If she hadn't hesitated to regain her balance she could be out that door and down the hallway…

"Bad move, Georgie," Riddick drawled out slowly before starting to press his fingers into her throat and watching her nostrils flare in both alarm and hatred. He was just about to move her neck to the side and snap it quickly before curiosity suddenly reared its head in his mind. _Wait a minute_… he thought slowly before situating himself more comfortably and cocking his head to the side, his eyebrows narrowing in thought.

"What did you mean I put a bounty on your head, Red?"

Riddick's voice broke through the haze of decreasing air and a mini panic attack within the confines of George's brain. Her gaze snapped up to him, her mouth opening and closing in both stunned amazement that he had stopped and befuddlement at where this sudden corner had come from. When she didn't answer, and probably because he face was turning a slight tinge of blue, he lessened his grip and she relished in the sudden sensation of cold, beautiful air flooding into her lungs. Taking a big gasp of it and closing her eyes in elation she savored the sensation of oxygen laden in this planets atmosphere pushing down and cooling her heated body.

She eyed him a moment, her mouth forming into a purse. If he had posted that bill on her then there was a possibility he was trying to trick her, get a few good kicks out of this. But the more this scene played out the more ludicrous that thought seemed to her own brain. Logic was telling her that this was not the reason why he was here or why she had been posted up, yet again, on the merc hotline for six million creds. All of this was starting to seem a bit duplicitous to her. "I got jumped after a hit on Helion by a bunch of mercs. Right before I finished the last guy off he said that you were the one that contacted them and posted up a six million cred bounty on my head," she explained with a cross look on her face.

Riddick suddenly found this situation amusing and he voiced it by booming a quick laugh for a few breaths before returning to her. He cocked his head while raising one eyebrow in sardonic question. "Does it look like I have six million creds?" he questioned and sat back showing her his state of disarray and varying degrees of filth. If he had that much money he would have new clothes and top of the grade weapons and his own ship, not posting some obscure bill on someone like Georgina Collins.

George found his laughter abrasive and flushed darkly in both embarrassment and rage. Her lips pulled back in a flash of teeth and fangs before settling onto the mattress, regarding the fellow killer before her skeptically. She still didn't understand why she was still alive… but if this conversation kept her alive then fuck it. Scoffing she commented blithely, "I dunno, you might. You seem to only dress in one damn outfit," she snapped peevishly.

Riddick suddenly leaned forwards, letting her throat go before hissing at her, "what possible reason would I have to get rid of you other than the shit you just pulled?"

George opened her mouth to respond with a witty retort only to find her mouth snapping back shut and her entire face drawing into a thoughtful expression. When she could come up with nothing, racking her brain for a good two minutes while Riddick waited with a blank look to his features, she shrugged. "You're creepy like that…?" she offered quietly, watching as he shook his head.

_So… all of this has come from a misunderstanding…_Riddick concluded with a small snort to himself. It seemed just like George to pull something like this, not thinking something completely through and reacting out of emotion rather than any cerebral function. A small chunk of his rage towards her vanished though there was still a deep pot of it left, bubbling and seething, writhing and wanting revenge. He sat back again just as he had been staring her down before placing his hand back over her throat and studied her eyes widening. He began to close off her airways again with a stern firming of his lips, his lower jaw jutting out.

"R-Riddick…!" George gasped past the constricting. Her chest suddenly felt heavy and as she spluttered for air pathetically, his vice grip becoming more and more harsh, she felt like she was drowning on her own breath. Spots began to fill her vision and a roaring was rushing through her ears; getting lightheaded she tried to stop her eyes from rolling back into her head. Fingers grasping at the sheets under her, thrashing for freedom from his death grip, George found herself thinking finally that this might be it.

Riddick listened to her gasping and how her body made the bed beneath them cry out from her continued thrashing around like a shored fish. Her torso jutted back and forth while she pulled fitfully and unevenly at her arms, all the while angry purple marks were forming around his hand. He could feel less and less air rushing passed her closed off air way, the blood in her veins pounding away to get the last of the oxygenated blood up to the brain before it died off. She was dying a slow death and when her eyes rolled back and her eyelids fluttered, her mouth opening and letting out that familiar hissing noise of someone just steps from being rendered unconscious, he found something in the back of his mind suddenly scream at him. Pausing he saw her chest, once heaving for breath, gradually slow down to little more than shivering and shallow pants, he felt her pulse slowing down, and the whimpers coming from her mouth were failing.

He couldn't do it. For whatever reason he couldn't do it, and that fucking scared the shit out of him when he found his hand withdraw from her neck as if he had been burned. Her chest jolted forwards and she gulped down air while Riddick looked at the offending limb with a narrowed look.

George's eyes shot open yet again when she was released from the door of death, spluttering and taking in as much air as she possibly could with each lap grasping pant. She was just about to swear, to thank whatever thing existed up there that had seemed to hate her in the past for sparing her, when her mouth was sealed off and she was yet again left breathless but for a whole other reason. She felt Riddick's lip press demandingly to hers, almost mashing them down and forcing them to conform to his own shape, before his body shifted to hover over hers and not tower threateningly. She gawked at his barely open silver eyes in bemusement as to this sudden turn in events just as his tongue thrusted itself into her own orifice.

She winced and tried to restore her bodies oxygen supply through her nose but found that the more that his skilled mouth worked over hers the more that her already fuzzy mind allowed this. _The fuck is this_!? The man had just tried to kill her, the closest he had ever fucking been, and he pulls this shit?! She felt his free hand go from her bruised neck to grip gruffly onto one of her breasts, his fingers digging painfully into the tender flesh. George could hear the rushing still in her ears; her heart was now pounding erratically in a confused and alarmed rhythm while her vision was still cloudy and blurred. She was struggling to regain consciousness, full cognitive function, when rough pads were pressing into her stomach and running up the scarred up surface brashly. She couldn't help the hitch in her breathing when his palm pressed into the largest marking on her midsection, that from the necromonger blade that had nearly ended her, and a jolt of something not entire unpleasant went up her spine.

Finally, when her brain was starting to work again and the hamster that had been momentarily shot in its wheel began to move once more her eyes narrowed and hardened sharply. _Dickwad! _With a snarl she bit down as hard as she could on the invading force and caused the tang of blood to erupt into her mouth. George only had a moment to celebrate her victory when Riddick grunted loudly and pulled away, red running dark down his chin while his hold loosened on her through the blinding agony of her having nearly bitten through his tongue. Wrenching her arms free of his hold with a powerful tug from her nearly exhausted body, at this point running on pure adrenaline, she surged up and punched him in the jaw hard then struck him between the legs with her elbow, causing the man to splutter and double over in both surprise and anguish.

She shot out from under him with a firm kick to his abs, sending him slumping over in spite of himself. When Georgina was free she staggered off of the bed in one leap, landing on nearly all fours before clambering up to a standing and searching frantically with her eyes for the glint of her faithful weapons. No way in hell was anyone gonna get away with just trying to kill her and then pulling this shit… his ass was as good as skinned. Her feet hit against the dingy carpet, burning the under sides when she slid slightly on the blood that the deceased was still pumping out.

Her eyes just barely fell onto one of her daggers just yards away when she heard Riddick hiss and the bed groan from him removing himself from the mattress. George glanced over her shoulder with a snort before diving for her knife, reaching out into the dark around her and towards where the weapon lay within a small beam of light, promising her freedom. She landed with a loud thud, her stomach searing and the fibers of the carpet scrapping up her tough skin, but her fingers grazed against the chill of the blade and her eyes lit up in hope, her mouth opening up in triumph. Only to have it slammed shut when Riddick grabbed her again and pulled her gruffly towards him, the pads of her fingers slipping away from her only hope and dragging across the coarse material under her. Wincing George was flipped over ruthlessly, her hips brought to a slamming stop to against his while his body once more loomed over hers.

"Where do you think you're going?" he growled deep and low, his thick arms holding her legs in place while his eyes pierced into her very core. George couldn't help the small noise that escaped her nor the unintentional licking of her lips in a confusing elixir of fear and curiosity.

"Fuck you," George snarled, struggling to get free. She pulled a fist back to punch him again but he barked out a booming laugh that made her pause, her eyes narrowing in mystification.

"Haven't changed a damn bit, still so damn stubborn," he rumbled. He only had time to move his head in time because of the sharpness of his eyesight otherwise the fist whizzing by his jaw would have contacted and might have caused him pain. She surprised him however by suddenly grabbing both of his ears and pulling him down with a shout. CRACK! Her forehead slammed into his hard, causing his vision to blur and hers to momentarily flicker with black spots, but it had the desired effect when he almost yelled and let go of her legs in surprise. Was it just him or did she get even more defiant in the years since they had last fucked?

George had made it to the wall next to the door, panting and wheezing from the day full of fighting and running, when she was slammed into the peeling surface hard, her back scrapping even harder than with the carpet. She winced and pushed at him, his hands tearing her pants from her hips with one swift movement and causing her legs to be bared to the heated night air. The dark fabric pooled around her boots and before she could react, before she could put up a proper resistance, his arms were looped around her legs and her knees were bent against his back and shoulders, forcing her to slump against the room. She gripped into his head in shock only to blink and start when she glanced down to see his head between her legs and staring up at her in smug victory.

"Riddick, you ass hole, what the hel-!" had to bite her lip hard to keep from gasping, from giving him the satisfaction of hearing her, when he separated her lips with his thumbs and swiftly ran his tongue over her entrance and nub. Her eyes screwed shut, her fingers still gripping into his bald head, when the damnable fellow killer began to lavish at her opening. She didn't expect the jolt that ran up her spine from the contact, or the way that her back arched and her hip shamelessly pressed against him instinctually. George rolled her head back and repressed a small whimper from her throat, now trying to push Riddick's head or shoulders or arms away desperately, trying to thrash her legs but she couldn't move them with his arms wrapped like steel around them.

With a final effort she used all of her muscle strength, what was remaining, to push him momentarily from her and to swear lightly, glaring down at him while puffing out exhausted breath. "You… didn't strike me as a rapist…" she stated with that same edge to her voice as nearly four years ago.

Riddick growled low in his throat and pushed forward, breaking her hold on him and against his shaved head before nestling back between her legs, breathing in the familiar aroma deeply. He held her legs firmly in his grasp though he could feel from her lax body and the way that her fingers were no longer piercing into his skull or trying to but sitting there and waiting for whatever he decided to do that she wasn't going to fight him any longer; couldn't fight him any longer. He nipped at her outer folds, testing her, seeing if she would tense up again and start to pummel him, but when all she did was jolt slightly and shift her legs he smirked against her skin, his silver eyes darkening. Running his tongue thickly from her anus to the very tip of the fold, hard and causing the skin to drag under him and become red with the pressure, he felt George shiver against him. It was disturbing how quickly they had fallen back into their old routine even after all these years… he should have killed her… but he didn't.

George bit her lip again to try and stop a moan escaping her mouth and instead it came out as a grunting from the base of her throat. Stars filled her eyes when he latched onto her nub and dragged it out of the sheath with one firm, powerful suck. She, however, couldn't help the near cry when his tongue flattened against it and began the vicious cycle of feeding on her hungrily. "Shit…" George hissed and gripped into the stubbly skin of Riddick's head, her body slumping against the wall in surrender. She supposed she should have been kicking and screaming; he had just attempted to end her life after all. But then again this seemed to be their thing. She would fight him tooth and nail, literally, until she couldn't fight anymore or would just give in and then he would fuck her brains out. Even after four years nearly it hadn't changed. She just wondered if it would stay this way, if whenever Riddick came thundering back into her life if she would give it up that easily?

Thoughts were erased when he bit softly at the bundle of nerves he had been nursing on and her hips bucked down on him in surprise and ecstasy. It didn't help that it had been so long since she had been with someone she wasn't about to kill or using for information that she had last enjoyed the touch of a man. Oh god Riddick felt like he would be her undoing just by when his finger that had been holding her folds open proudly for him skimmed around her opening before sinking into the quickly moistening area. George moaned and rolled her hips, pulling his head closer and feeling his nose grind against the top most part of her slit, his breath hot and humid and every single touch of bare skin making her body seem to cry out.

She felt his arms loop from around her legs but at this point she didn't even dare to move lest she upset the steadily building coil that had settled deep in her stomach. The heat from his tongue, his mouth, and his finger were like a furnace and when he licked at her again, running circles around the nerve ending, she groaned out louder than before and had to hold onto Riddick for fear of sliding completely onto his shoulders. She hated feeling powerless, she had spent her whole life training so that she wouldn't feel as powerless as when Artemis fell again, but with this man there was nothing she could do… he always overwhelmed her just by his presence. George whimpered when his finger began a slightly faster pace, hooking and rubbing against the ribbed area within her that made her mind stop and her legs turn to mush.

For all her fighting she soon found herself seated in a mess on Riddick's shoulders, head tossed back and holding him firmly between her legs.

Riddick ran his tongue around the soft, smooth skin that was quickly becoming like an oven against him. The taste and smell was driving him over the edge and all cognitive thoughts were gone and replaced only by the roaring in his ears; whether it was blood or the animal in him he didn't know and didn't care. He felt her thighs close around his ears and could hear her breathing quickly becoming increasingly ragged and knew that he was close to making the hellcat submit to him again. He had missed this… no matter how much he tried to deny it the way that her scent hit him so hard in the chest it was a miracle he hadn't fallen over and just drilled her into the ground showed how greatly the woman still seemed to effect him.

Sensing her close to climax he pulled off of her nub and began to focus on his finger and how it curled inside of her. He pushed up sharply, making her hips follow the movement with a growl and her head roll to the side. Her sharp fingers came into one of his tank top straps and pulled harshly until it ripped with a loud roar of noise compared to the silence in the room. He found it, the almost seam like ridge deep inside of the woman on his shoulders, and began to rub it harshly. It had the desired effect when her voice came out in a high, keening tone and she nearly clamped down around his fingers like a vice. Colorful words fell like fits from her lips and he watched with his silver gaze as her chest heaved in harried breaths, hands now scratching at his shoulders and arms and eyes held tightly closed. Riddick had forgotten just how glorious her face could be when he was forcing her over the edge.

George shuddered from head to toe when he plunged another finger into her and continued to hit that one spot, that impossible spot that even she couldn't get to herself. She whined hoarsely when his lips finally sank back of her bundle of nerves and pulled it deep into his mouth and that was all it took from the intense stimulation that made it feel like she was about to piss from the strength to the conflicting sensation of being overwhelmed by his mouth. With a soundless scream that came out as a simple sob she came, hard, and her entrance grasped about him like concrete and her entire body stopped for a split second. Then she began to quake and held onto his shoulders for dear life, her breathing becoming frantic and her entire body breaking out into a sweat from the muscles all over overheating with motion. She arched her back up hard and hissed when the rushing of her entire form filled her ears and made her deaf and blind, the only sound the hammering of her frantic heart.

Riddick stopped moving his fingers when the burning that they were engulfed in pulled his hand closer and held him there while the walls fluttered and a thick, searing liquid came to soak onto his palm and between her legs starkly. He nursed her down by languidly lapping on her clit, enjoying how each time he licked she shivered and whimpered and clenched just a little more. Riddick pulled off of the shivering woman who was now letting out a series of attempted and failed words and smirked up at her. He pushed her thighs from his shoulders and slowly ran his tongue up her body before dipping it into her navel, suggestively thrusting in and out of it. Her stomach tensed while a soft resistant moan came from her lips.

George slid down the wall almost to where she was sitting, her legs feeling like jelly and completely incapable of supporting her weight. Her eyes drifted closed after experiencing one of the most powerful orgasms she'd had since departing from the very hulk before her; her body was floating in a sea of warmth and hypersensitivity. So when she felt his gruff hands come under her arms and bring her up to where she was pressed against his chest, her legs weakly wrapping around his waist in understanding, she felt a shudder run down her entire body to her very toes. A crisp chuckle met her still basking body before he turned her from the wall and started a quick stride towards the ruffled bed. Shit… his arms were like steel around her.

Riddick tossed her unceremoniously onto the bed before ripping off his tank tops remains. He watched with satisfaction as she growled and sat up onto her elbows, glaring venom at him for doing such a thing though he could still smell the sting of her arousal. She spat at him and called him a dick wad though she shifted back and her eyes were sparking with that same silent challenge that had started this whole twisted relationship to begin with. And Riddick was bad at refusing both her and a dispute of his superiority.

With a low rumble George hitched her breath quietly as with cat like grace and prowess the more skilled of the two crawled his way onto the bed and forwards towards her. She watched in the limited light his muscles move under that damnable skin, flesh that her body was burning to touch again, and his lips quirked at the sides into a cocky smirk. He was positively feline in appearance, with his shoulder blades rising high and his large hands reaching over the mattress with little difficulty. Soon the red head found herself loomed over, her fingers gripping into the ruffled and bunched up sheets, and she swallowed painfully on the lump that had formed in her throat. Riddick leaned over her and ghosted his lips against her ear, his lower body coming to settle neatly between her legs though still fully clothed. His fingers dug into the bed beneath them and she suddenly felt the shock of a chuckle vibrate her ear, causing an unwanted moan to rip from her throat.

Slowly Riddick slid a hand from the bed up her stomach, pushing the fabric up and away and feeling the hard muscle beneath his touch. His own gut lurched and the heat that had been raging since he had pinned her by the throat and nearly killed her became all the more painful and demanding. He pushed her down a little but as predicted she resisted and hissed in stubbornness. Clicking his tongue to his teeth he whispered just shy of her ear, letting his breath heat and tease the lobe and shell, "I've decided to be nice, Georgie girl, and let you pick how you're punished."

George was ripped from her lust filled daze and she snapped her head away from him, her eyes wild and filled with confusion and fear. She snarled at him, showing her teeth like some cornered animal, and when she tried to get up off of the bed his iron grip held her down by her stomach and pushed her the rest of the way back. She couldn't breathe as he straddled her, looking down at her with an odd show of fondness in his silver eyes; panting and racking her brain she tried to think what he could possibly mean. Was Riddick really that much of a control freak? He didn't strike her as the type to be into sadomasochism.

"What do you mean?" she managed to rasp out.

Riddick scoffed softly but ran a hand once more up her shirt to show off that stomach he so admired, tarnished and all, before reaching behind him and dipping a finger between her folds. He got a thoughtful look to his features for a second before stating very matter of factly, "you get three choices… I tie you up and decide what I'm going to do, I bend you over and decide what I want to do, or I turn you over and decide what I'm going to do to you… you're choice."

Georgina flared with indignant rage. "What kind of a choice is that, fucktard!?"

"Be happy I'm giving you one," he bit right back. There was a sudden abashed look to the red head under him and he smirked in satisfaction. She knew he was right, she knew that he could have killed her but hadn't and so something this simple was plenty of payment, now it was just a question of swallowing her foolish pride and submitting to him. Again. He watched the humiliation flood onto her face and a dark red flush cover her cheeks, something he had very rarely seen from the fellow killer.

George racked her brain with all the possibilities that could come with each option. She knew one thing for damn sure, the tying her up was not a choice, she would rather have her hair pulled out a strand at a time before she let someone do that to her; again. There were too many things that could happen with each position. Far too many. And she knew that Riddick had things under his belt that he had never even used before against her, or on her, and that terrified her. The thought of the unknown was making her heart beat soundly and painfully in her throat. Swallowing the best she could she figured there was no harm in picking the first one that floated to the top her consciousness.

"Turn over," she hissed out through gritted teeth, her cheeks heating to a whole new level. Though she knew that this was just a way for her to survive to another day she didn't like the idea of using sex like this. Well, not now anyway. She couldn't count how many times that it had actually boiled down to her giving someone head or letting him fuck her to where she lived or not. It came with the job, she had accepted that a long, long time ago.

Riddick's hands however suddenly gripped onto the fabric of her tank top and ripped it from around her head, exposing her chest completely and making the woman under him hiss in disgust. George struggled a bit when he moved to relieve her of her pants, the ones that had fallen to her ankles when he'd forced pleasure upon her, but despite her resistance they too were quickly torn from her body and she was left naked before the hulking male. Sucking in a breath and gripping into the sheets she watched his eyes rove over her hungrily, his tongue coming out to lick at the corner of his lips absentmindedly. She was once again being appraised and she tell that when his eyes lingered upon the junction between her legs once more that the Furyian was recalling every incident before that had happened between them. A low growl emitted from the back of his throat before Riddick's rough, calloused hands ran down her thighs to her calves, appearing to study the soft skin beneath his fingers thoughtfully.

The anticipation was killing her. When all he did was to lean over her and bite down onto her stomach, lifted her legs and scrapped his hands up to her rear to squeeze powerfully there, she was wondering why he was waiting to inflict her 'punishment'. Shifting and letting out a small breath George felt his rough fingers trail up her back then rake back down, leaving a stinging burn in the wake of his blunted fingernails. Arching and gripping into his burly shoulders the smaller woman was having a hard time concentrating on coming up with possible ways to get out of this. She should have thought of a way out of this predicament by now, should have devised a way to make Riddick either immobile to run away or talk her way out of him having his way with her, but with her mind clouded over and the fires of desire yet again starting to burn at her flesh she was having a difficult time just remembering to breath normally. Something was fishy with his sudden diversion, the warning bells were going off loudly in her ears, but when he bit down into her hip bone and sucked on the skin until she whimpered and pushed into his mouth.

Georgina was weak… she would be the first to admit it.

Suddenly and with a yelp of confusion and alarm she was spun around until her face was plopped into the not so soft surface of the mattress covered blithely with unclean sheets. Disgruntled at the gruffness she shot a glare over her shoulder, blushing wildly when her hips were pulled upwards to where they were presented temptingly to wards the bald killer. Opening her mouth to tell him off she suddenly felt the hands that had been gripping at her rear dip lower.

"Riddick, what the hell??" she had to cut off a moan in the back of her throat when he stuck a few fingers between her fold and ran them around, coating the digits lavishly. He gave her clit one firm flick of his index finger before suddenly leaving the burning opening, skimming his finger and thumb upwards daringly until they were situated just at her rear opening. Gaping and suddenly realizing what was going on George bucked and tried to get away, shouting profanities and hurling threats towards the much stronger convict. But it was all in vain as he spread apart her slit and placed a finger at her opening, slowly sliding the slicked digit inwards while his mate fought fiercely for her freedom.

George gripped into the bed desperately at the strange stinging pain that was riding down from her entrance all the way to the back of her knees, her eyes squeezing shut. Voicing her pain didn't seem to phase Riddick at all as he merely pushed until his thick finger was in to the very last knuckle and sitting there, probing at the walls with alien force. She thrashed again to try to escape but only succeeded in having the free hand of her captor slam down onto her back and push her chest down, leaving her prone and helpless. Seizing her lip in her teeth George willed herself not to scream when another finger entered her at just a slow but agonizing speed.

"Relax," Riddick ground out when he felt the inner muscles seize around him and flutter tightly, trying to force the intrusion from her. Glancing down towards the red head spit fire he noted how every single muscle in her body was knotted up and her spine was starting to get beads of sweat to form and roll down her sides. Her breathing was erratic; her eyes were huge; teeth were bared; all signs of acute stress. Obviously someone had never had anal before. Smirking despite himself Riddick returned his sight smugly to the tight, tiny ass of the warrior before him, pumping his fingers lazily in and out to try to stretch the pert and hot opening.

"It'll hurt less if you just let go," he commented off handedly though there was a smug tone to his voice.

George hated him in that moment. "It hurts _now_!"

"Well then it's gonna hurt a lot more in a few minutes Georgie, now relax or it'll feel like I'm stabbing you. Or don't, I really don't give a crap," he added the last as a snap when her muscles yet again clamped around him and her entire body froze with the motion. He noted her nostrils flare and her eyebrows come together in a primal snarl, one that spoke his death on so many levels. That only made the heat in his pants that was tenting painfully throb all the more. Oh god he was going to enjoy this…

Georgina returned her stare to the pillow that was somehow still situated at the top of the bed. She tried to make her body relax, tried to make her rear stop seizing painfully whenever her reentered, and more over, she tried to maybe pretend this wasn't happening. She was a woman, there was no need to go in a hole that had no natural lubrication of its own when there was a perfectly good one right there! And it sure as hell didn't hurt as much as this one was! Gritting her teeth when the third finger entered into the equation and started to fan out, stretching her to her limits and making her moan in protest, she forced herself not to think about the now burning pain that was reaching into her back. At least though she could feel no tearing… not that Riddick would have cared. He was in one of those moods that she had only seen him in with other crooks; where he would get his no matter what the other suffered.

She jolted however when something strange happened. All three fingers turned around abruptly to where they curved towards her belly button and struck against where she knew from her own ministrations her g-spot to be. Arching in surprise when a surge of pleasure shot up her spine to settle into pins and needles at her scalp she was left breathless, clenching her eyes shut and letting out a quiet hiss. The fuck was that…?

Just as suddenly as she had been flipped over her captors fingers were gone, leaving a very empty sensation where they had been. George sit there panting a moment, her toes curled from that one brief contact. Licking her lips yet again in anticipation she knew this wasn't over. Shifting on her knees and shutting her eyes, preparing herself mentally for the fact that she was about to submit to Riddick in the most degrading kind of way, George felt both of his hands come to rest on her hips and his body come up behind her.

Riddick admired the view for a few seconds, gazing upon the rippling and slender muscles of the female beneath him. With her shoulders scrunched together, her rear up in the air and displayed prominently for him, her back arched and her arms reached out around her head with fingers gripping with vigor into the bed she looked so… weak and yet powerful in that moment. He remembered all of the fights that he had seen her in, how she was lithe and fast, quick and fluid, what she lacked in physical strength she made up for in knowledge and swift prowess, and no where was it more obvious as her position here. To know that yet again he had brought one of the universes most renown killers, one of the most wanted women out there in the known existence, was a trip and made him growl under his breath.

Riddick's deep voice filled her hearing, and though she did not catch what he said, she did feel his manhood sink into her wet opening, thrusting and grinding there blindly and causing the younger woman to moan loudly. Closing her eyes in content and more than willing to accept this deviation from his former plan she arched back into him when he thrusted shallowly into her; she wasn't aware that her toes were curling into the bed. However, just as quickly as his pleasure had come he pulled out, leaving her breathless and feeling empty once more, her eyes snapping open and her mouth pulling into an impatient snarl.

However, her rancor soon turned to fear and anxiety once more when her cheeks were pulled apart and she felt something very hot and large at the impossibly small opening. Gripping for dear life into the sheets under her she gasped in pain, stark and searing up her spine, when he slid in despite the aid of liberal amounts of natural lubrication. She whimpered and shifted, trying now only to open her legs wider as he continued to push inwards, further and further, a burning pain was settling around the ring and inching down her legs to her toes, and though she wished to whatever deity that had it out for her how much it hurt… she was left without a voice in his agonizing wake. His fingers were sinking too far into her rear, he was moving too fast for her to accommodate comfortably, and all of this was just wrong. She didn't care what she'd done, she hardly thought that this was fair!

Riddick couldn't help the small grunt when he was finally fully sheathed within the hissing and simpering girl beneath him. So tight, so hot, he rolled his head to the side for a moment to enjoy the sensation as she squirmed and no doubt mentally swore at his mere existence. Feeling her tenseness and her rigidity, even though he was basking in the pleasure of just sitting there within his taken lover, he ran a hand subconsciously over her back and thigh. Cracking one silver eye open with a groan and feeling her shudder and seeing sweat once more break over her skin he sighed deeply. "Relax, damn it," he growled low and harsh.

George flared under the pain, her lips curling into a fierce snarl as she glared at him over her arched shoulders with wild, wide brown eyes. Panting and trying her best not to yell and scream at him for his idiocy on those words she ground out, "fuck you… why don't you try relaxing when some guy just shoved his dick up your ass!!"

Riddick furrowed his brows at that comment and punished the mouthy woman by rocking back and listening to her gasp and the sheets moan from her passionate grip. Thrusting forwards idly and with a bored look he watched her writhe and listened to the colorful array of words falling from her criminal mouth. "I am no one's bitch," he whispered in a deadly quiet tone, informing her that she had crossed some unseen line. He heard her gulp harshly and a strange sense of triumph flooded in his veins, it wasn't often he managed to make her shut up like this.

George arched her back when he pulled backwards again only to push her back forward, the feeling of that hot, unbearably large friction inside of her making her utter a small noise with each movement. Clinging onto the fabric for dear life she shut her eyes closed tightly, moved her legs farther apart from around his, and began to try to force herself to relax. He was unrelenting, never giving her a moment now to get used to this, and as he thrust back in each time she had to force her body to stop from spasming around him and trying to force him back out. Fuck if Riddick wasn't small, this would be the only time a tiny cock would be helpful! Panting and feeling sweat run down her arms the red head began to rock back onto him in time; at least it would be over soon…

She felt the finger tips of her captor dig into her rear and spread her fold further apart, a grunt ringing out into the silence that was perforated only by her gasps and the sound of flesh moving against flesh. As she indeed relaxed and as her body began to accept that this thing wasn't leaving something strange happened; a lurching caught her attention just above her still dripping opening and she moaned in abrupt arousal. Her stomach felt like it had dropped out and her spine was tingling and when next he thrust in, jarring now and taking it faster with each pump, she vocalized louder, tossing her head back with the motion. A pleasure unlike any other she had experienced settled deep into her core, coiling much differently and stranger than before. It was odd, it was almost as if he was brushing against something with each push and that something reverberated down to her clit where it burned and created yet more build up. George gasped when her thighs suddenly felt like jelly and she shifted more towards his hips, grinding and wanting more… wanting to feel more of this oddity she had never done before.

George nearly cried out in surprise when he stopped and shifted, grinding off to the right somewhere, pushing his sharp hip bones into the soft flesh of her ass, and something jolted sharply and made her body shudder. His hands ran down her back, rubbing over the slicked skin and tracing the scars as he made shallow thrusts onto that one spot… that one marvelous spot… and George felt herself being undone again. She flopped her forehead to the mattress, gasping and harried breathing, and she found herself synchronizing with Riddick shamelessly. She wanted more, she didn't know what she wanted more of, but she needed it with a passion she hadn't felt since her early years of sexual activity. One of his hands scrapped down her hip and over the back of her thigh, the calluses catching on her skin in a fabulously gruff sensation, before his fingers skimmed their way up to between her legs.

"Shit!" George had to be careful not to bite down onto her tongue when his thumb flicked her clit sharply. Arching back onto him and thrusting to where she was fully sheathed she just sat there and forced herself not to be done so quickly. But it was hard with his fingers making deft work with her and his now resumed thrusting turning more and more into deep, hard strokes to keep her mind about her. Her chest heaved, her core felt like it was on fire, and what was worse was that she was gasping and moaning in some whorish manner that she saved for when she was faking it for information.

A blind hand reached down and took hold of his wrist, as if in some desperate plea for him to stop his damn fingers from stimulating the already painfully aroused bud, however he paid no heed. Instead, if anything, Riddick increased his jabs into her, going at a swift pace until the familiar sound of his skin slapping against hers was heard. That dirty, filthy, holy sound filled George's ears, his scent invaded her nose, and his grunts seemed to be the only thing that she could grasp onto for the real world because the sheets had been proven useless.

Riddick leaned over the enthralled woman beneath him whose eyes were slammed tightly shut to keep out anything that might set her off too soon. His breath tickled at the red that had managed to sprawl out over onto her back, dancing the strands of frizz over her tensed muscles, and he felt the urge to just grapple onto any skin with his mouth and teeth and mark her as his. Again. "_Yes_…" he groaned under his breath at that subliminal thought. Bending down he ran his tongue up what little of her spine he could reach and tasted the salt of her skin, he musk of their coupling, and somehow he thought he could even sense her yelps for more on his taste buds. He angled himself to where his hands were now gripping harshly into the supple skin of her still womanly hips before going after her with everything he had, his mouth latching onto the joint of her neck shoulders viciously.

George whined when his teeth scrapped into the sensitive skin, and only minutely did she feel the pain of him breaking skin for it was drowned out by the blinding pleasure now surging throughout her entire body. Every nerve ending was screaming, her vision even from behind shut eyes was flecking with white and black dots, and when she shifted to where her hands were both now useless under her shoulders she heard the man above her growl deep in his throat. She felt his every thrust ripple throughout her, thunder into her brain and core like a storm, before it tore a gasp and his name from her lips. She couldn't think anymore, she couldn't hardly breath, he was crushing her with his weight and his scent and his damn groaning, god she was going to die here!

"C'mon George… that the best you got…?" somehow Riddick managed to get his lips to work and when he snapped his fangs near her ear he watched the bumps that broke out along her entire body. She merely groaned, long and low, shifting to where she was trying to keep up with him valiantly but he was going to damn fast. His hand returned to between her legs and parted her swollen lips for what seemed like the hundredth time and found the throbbing nub without any effort. Listening to her yell and then buck under him was like music to his ears and he felt that same surge and vice like tightening throughout his entire lower body. He was on fire… and it was fantastic.

George hissed when he pulled on her clit and she rolled her hips in response, her body now officially shaking from the ordeal he was putting her through. She almost wanted it to stop, to make the pleasure that wasn't dying but building to higher and higher peaks, to make the bliss that was so sharp through ever single fiber of her being stop because it hurt so bad… but she knew she would kill him if he stopped. She would roll over and stab him in his bald head if he stopped now.

Riddick was her undoing when his entire palm scrapped up against her junction and with a cry she stopped moving and tensed up everywhere. Spluttering incoherently she felt the familiar clenches of orgasm tear through her and with nothing to grip onto the liquid came pouring out down her thighs in a hot trail of lava. Shudders racked her body and when she felt even her anus shut tightly around Riddick her addled brain found glory in him moaning loudly in surprise before beginning to rock furiously, signaling his own coming completion.

With a snarl Riddick sat up, fully pulling himself into position, as he plowed into her with deep, powerful strokes that caused her entire body to push forwards on the bed. He gritted his teeth when every single muscle in his body pulled inwards and with a hiss out of his nose and a garbled groan he was spent into his still shivering lover. The fog that came over him was deafening, his ears were pumping with blood and he was blinded in that moment, nothing mattered but the quakes that were going through his back and hips and the moans he sought so hard to contain. _This could be bad…_ he thought amazingly through the small death of himself in those seconds that ticked by. _This could be very bad…_


End file.
